Keep one hand free, sling everything in the briefcase,
Jan’s on the road; children, she’s coming home,
Bringing you gifts to prove she’s a proper mother,
Be ready, be waiting, assemble at the station,
Momma is coming; children, she’s on the move.
Look at her footwork; my, but she’s fast on her feet
And a sharp operator, she’s keen at earning money –
Money to keep you, money to keep you going,
Growing and good, she likes to think of you warm and well-shod.
But let’s face it, kids, gelt’s heavy and so are you:
Surcharge, surplus baggage, extra weight.
Better to leave it, and you to germinate surely,
Rooted in one dear perpetual place
To flourish and prosper while Momma is on the loose.
But now she is coming, she’s coming, do you hear me darlings,
My own little millstones? It’s a promise, she’ll be with you tonight.
And she’s making good time. Hurry, line up on the platform,
Nothing will stop her. Momma is travelling light.