There are silverfish in the bath, my love,
There are silverfish in the bath!
I can close my eyes and count to ten,
Or hold my breath till the Lord knows when —
But when I’m looking once more and breathing again
There are still silverfish in the bath!
I see breadcrumbs on the floor, my dove
I see breadcrumbs on the floor,
If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you twice,
The handbrush will sweep them up in a trice
And a spotless linoleum’s ever so nice!
But the breadcrumbs are still on the floor!
The hoover stands by the door, my dear,
The hoover stands by the door,
There are chairs to polish — and see those shelves?
They are never going to wipe themselves!
Do you really believe in household elves?
That hoover is still by the door!
(Mud upon the patio and grass stains on the rug;
Rainspots on the window and a petrifying bug.
Grease upon the hob and balls of fluff all up the stairs —
Won’t you even try to clean the ‘apples and the pears’?!)
And His Wife’s Reply:
There are dusters in the drawer, old thing,
They’ve been there quite some time,
With spray and bleach and bucket and mop
I want you scrubbing until you drop;
Now, no more arguments! Off you hop!
And let me end this rhyme!
Paula Monger