Babies Don't Keep

Sour milk on the shoulder of my best Sunday dress, dirty diapers, sticky lolly-pops, oh what a mess.

Walking the floor, up all through the night, rocking sick babies 'til dawns early light.

More than once I said, "Will they ever grow up?", now that they have it's a bitter-sweet cup.

I still love them my girl and my boy, but I miss the sweet children that once brought me joy.

Babies don't keep, I heard it in a song, no chance to do it over, we'd best not get it wrong.