The Boy Who Wouldn’t Stop Calling Mummy

In the middle of the square, he called, “Mummy!”

Again and again he shouted her name,

To his horror, all the nearest mummies came,

One in curlers in her hair, from the hairdresser seen racing.

Another with iron in her hand, leaving her washing waiting.

A woman from the dentist’s chair, came out stumbling,

A lady carrying triplets, came after him grumbling.

One lady with ladle in her hand, her pot, she left burning;

The Boy, terrified of all these running mummies, hid in the arms of his Granny.