A sweet little girl, but wilful,
Anne makes a silly fuss,
wishing her hair to be curly,
miserable with straight.
Go figure what her Mum does.
That night the hair is wrapped in rags -
knobbly knots to lie on,
enough to banish sleep.
When morning comes again
and mother unties the rags,
Anne goes to look in the mirror
agog with interest to see.
Aghast at sausage ringlets,
she stamps her foot in rage.
Look what you’ve done,
it’s horrible,
which only goes to prove
that you cannot please a woman,
‘specially one deprived of sleep.
See what others have done with this batch of words at the Sunday Whirl
This was quite the hoot, Viv. I love the humor and the story behind it. Excellent!
I always had such straight hair…my curls were artificial…love this!
The tress is always curlier on the other side. Straight hair wants curls, and vice versa. My mom told me about the rag thing and the Shirley Temple look, achieve with just what you cited: Very little sleep! Thanks for a cute reminder about my mother, Viv, and for a very “Jock”ular verse! Amy
Yes, having a daughter I know how contrary they can be. I seriously doubt she got it from me
Well wordled, Viv.
Hi Viv ~~ This is a pleasant reading reminder that not everything we want will be what we expected once we get it.
Your verse reminded me of a song that played on the top 40′s for quite a while way back when, I doubt you remember as it was before your time:
The Roving Kind
“(She had a dark and a-rovin’ eye-uh-eye
And her hair hung down in ringlets
She was a nice girl, a proper girl
But one of the rovin’ kind.)
“As I cruised out one evening upon a night’s care weer
I spied a lofty clipper ship and to her I did steer
I heisted out my signals which she so quickly knew
And when she saw my bunting fly she immediately hove to, woo-woo.”
It had two more verses.
Read more: http://artists.letssingit.com/rex-allen-lyrics-the-roving-kind-gmc4mns#ixzz2JyQU3HGZ
LetsSingIt – Your favorite Music Community
http://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/
1951 peaked on the charts
https://www.google.com/search?sourceid=navclient&aq=&oq=The+Roving+Kind+&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1T4GZAG_enUS440US440&q=the+roving+kind+lyrics&gs_l=hp..1.0l4.0.0.1.2579295………..0.HAew1nolAIU&pbx=1
Ah yes, I remember it well.
Smiling! As the mother of two daughters, one with curly, one with straight, I can completely confirm this theory. Really enjoyed this Viv, and am sending the link to both my girls.
Goodness me. My mother did this to my hair every day until I started school, and I cried every night as she tugged and pulled and tied it. When I started school, my father demanded that she stop, so she cut off my long hair and gave me a bob. What a darned nightmare….
Sorry, I seem to have struck a painful chord with many readers.
Not to be sorry, Viv. Good poetry should *always* strike a cord.
Those sausage ringlets were the only thing that would ever give my hair body, aside from a permanent wave. I’ve craved real curls all my life. Sigh….. These words were a bugger…you worked them well.
At least it wasn’t a perm!
She tried that later. It was even more horrible (frizz) than the rag ringlets.
Mine would get so tight and I couldn’t stand it until a month had passed by.
I laughed out loud at this one!
We are always wanting something else. I have learned to like my mouse-brown, silver and white streaked, straight thin hair. I think I’ve only every highlighted it with a spray in the summer sun. I try in vain to add some curls now and then but they fall out quickly. I do remember pin curls. Taking stripes and using two bobby pins to hold the curl. Perhaps just slightly better than knotted rags.
My non-story verse is here:
http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2013/02/sw94-judgement.html
My hair had a natural curl to it. My sisters’ didn’t. But Mom would religiously take all of us to the near-by Beauty School for perms. My sisters looked great and I was stuck with fuzzy knots no comb could get through. You brought back memories, and as usual, a smile. Thanks Viv,
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2009/02/02/in-my-own-space/
Oh, I feel her rage! (And your poem is not a bust, even without a “bust”!)
I have no sister. And sons, no daughters. And my mom’s hair is naturally curly – and red. But I totally get it now. Thanks.
Richard
Ah – across the seas and across time those wrapped rags creating those manageable what we called here in the US “banana curls” … brought back memories and your poem brought on a Sunday morning smile as is so often the case. Thank you Viv
My mother, when she would comb the knots out of my tangled hair and I would object, would say “il faut souffrir pour etre belle”. Is anyone ever happy with their hair?
Mine too, and she wasn’t even French!
I imagine her little foot stamping..sweetly though..
The things we woman go through to look nice! Enjoyed your poem!
Now I know what a bad hair day is!
Or as Jock would say, a had bare day (he doesn’t have much left to be bad)
An excellent combing out of the tangled words, Viv!
A cautionary tale! Thanks for the smile
I too had sausage curls, but slept on rollers to straighten mine. Also never pleased!
Rollers hadn’t been invented when I was that age!
Oh how I remember those sleepless nights. Those ringlets were never quite right. Memories evoked. Thank you
For some peculiar reason, my curly hair, when it was first cut, went dead straight. I didn’t much mind, but Mum was furious, thus subjecting me to nightly torture. It’s very curly now – and white!