Teaching children not to smirk.

Oh, toilet with your flushing  plumbed
You are  the saviour of girls young
We had to go outside at night
To a closet with no light.
When menstruating, it was hard
To run in rain down the backyard
What a glory later on
We had a bathroom with plumbing
Now many folks have three  or more
One downstairs with its own door.
We used chamber pots  at night
Without putting on the light.
But children rarely woke  too soon
We’d have stayed in bed till noon.
Saturdays, my mother baked
All sorts of mysterious cakes
Then she knitted, sewed and  cried
For my dad who  who early died.
She sewed our clothes and brushed our hair
Didn’t bother with the stairs.
And she had her full-time work
Teaching children not to smirk.
She made them read and write in ink
She questioned them and made them think.
There was a loo for teachers use
Gosh, it flushed and was kept spruce.
Gone, the days of no bathroom
Gone the sweeping with the broom
Dysons are worshipped as  our gods
Getting dust out of the rugs.
One thing always puzzled me
Why did God want us to wee?