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In the thirties, homes did
not have washrooms.
Taking baths were family
affairs.
Saturday night found the tub
in the kitchen
Kids would often bath in
pairs.
The
baby was the first one washed
He splashed around in fun.
Then kid number two, three
and four
Until the whole family was
done.
Then came the missus, she had her soak
More water and soap were thrown in.
At last Fritz
would have his turn in the tub
With bubbles up over
his chin.
After his bath, Fritz was most uneasy
When he moved, things didn't seem right.
All Sunday
it bothered him when he sat down,
Something pulling
his skin tense and tight.
He went to the clinic
and lay on his belly
And the doctor examined his
bum.
He called in the nurse and with sharp little
tools
They scraped off a big wad of gum.
Next Saturday bath-time Fritz laid down the law
No
IF or BUT or MAYBE
The missus and kids had to wait
till the last
And he jumped in the tub with the
baby.
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