From The Washington Times, May 22, 1913. By Helen Rowland. I know a little bachelor, with lots and lots of pelf And all the pennies that he gets he spends upon himself; But oh, how he can moralize! And oh, how he does pine For the “sweet old-fashioned woman,” and extol the “clinging vine!” And when, each night, he meets “the boys,” where golden beakers foam He cries in tones dramatic, “Woman’s place is in the home!” I know a lot of lovely maids, oh quite a score or more And each would make a charming wife for this same bachelor. But the “horrid things” insist on trotting downtown every day And slaving in an office—just to keep the wolf away. They should be darning someone’s socks or knitting baby-shoes. Their place is “in the home,” of course—somebody’s home—but whose? I know a girl of scarce sixteen, who rouses me to scorn She never stays at home at all, but trudges off each morn And pounds a little type-machine—oh, “just to pass the time”— And help her mother pay the rent. Such folly is sublime! Some one should really tell her to her pretty little face That girls were made for “ornaments.” The home is woman’s place! I live, myself, within a big luxurious hotel; And, when I want my dusting done, I simply ring a bell. I never do a single thing, but scribble all day long. I know, alas, this “idle” life is very, very wrong. I should be doing fancy work, or polishing my nails. But how I’d pay my bills that way—Well, there my fancy fails! What are the women coming to—to go at such a pace! The “sweet old-fashioned girl” sat ‘round and just massaged her face, Worked cushion-tops, and curled her hair, and gossiped by the hour; But lo, the modern woman goes at sixty-five horse-power! Ah, well, I trust that some of them will read this little “pome,” And realize, at last, that “Woman’s place is in the home!” Then Katy will not come back each day to put away my clothes, And who will write my quips for me—well, Heaven only knows! The typist and the laundry-maid, the waitress and the clerk Will stay at home, like ladies then, and do “a woman’s work.” And all the men will gather where the golden beakers foam— And wonder who on earth will do the work outside the home?
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