When I was sleeping five in a bed with my brothers, there was one long bolster for five hot little faces.

The bolster got feverish and a boy sang out: "Raise up." We lifted our tired heads.

"Turn over." Two boys turned the bolster.

"Lie down." And we put our faces on the cool side and went to sleep.
Those were not hardships, and life was sweet, and we awoke from our crowded bed, like birds in a nest awakened by their mother's morning song.

For, as I have said, my mother was always singing.