If I would charge one cent each time, I washed my children's clothes, or tied a shoe or gave a bath or wiped a runny nose,
Or made a bed or acted as their judge or referee, It would be possible that I could live in luxury.
If I were paid a nickel for each diaper that I've pinned, For every band-aid I've applied when arms or legs are skinned,
For every toy that I've picked up and put back in its niche, There wouldn't be a single doubt -why I could be quite rich.
If just one dime would be my fee for giving them a pill, For makings meals and wiping up the milk they always spill,
For darning scores of tiny socks, for fixing things they break, It wouldn't be too long before a fortune I would make.
Although it's true I don't receive a solitary cent, Yet I'm repaid in many ways for all the time I've spent.
Their smiles, their love is my reward for this unending care, And I am richer, yes, by far than any millionaire.
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