Mama used to go down to the laundrymat to do our washin'.
I remember being scared of those old wringer washers.
She'd caution me not to put my fingers in the wringers.
I always imagined me comin' out all flat.
She'd put me and my baby brother in a washtub
while she scrubbed our clothes.
Then we'd go home and she'd hang the wet clothes
out on the line in the back yard.
When they were dry, I'd help Mama take them down.
They were stiff as could be.
I remember holding a towel out like a board.
Our shirts and underwear were all scratchy, too.
In the summertime, that laundrymat was hot as blazes.
I remember Mama's dress stickin' to her back
and her red hair all curly around her face
from the perspiration.