Rub a Dub Dub

 Rub-a-dub-dub,

Three men in a tub,
And who do you think they be?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker,
And all of them out to sea.

There weren't 3 men in our tub.  At that time, circa 1950, it was just 2 small boys, my brother Gerry and me.  We were too young to know any trades, and definitely too young to be out to sea.

It was a fold-up rubber tub, like the one below except black.

This was before we had running water and electricity. 

Water was hand-pumped out of the cistern.

Then, heated on the kitchen wood stove.

We got baths on Saturdays, had to be clean for church on Sundays, you know.  Later, older, laboring on the farm, too tired to bathe Saturday night, no time to bathe Sunday morning.  

Then, came the en route to church spit-bath, our mom spitting on a tissue, wiping our faces, saying, "You could grow potatoes behind your ears!"  Oh yeah, those were the days! 

Are any of you readers old enough to have had a similar experience?