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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Housework what a chore I refuse to do it any more My poor hands have blisters And my hands are sore Oh my what a bore. The more you do The more you find It's such hard work And I don't have the time. Some peoples houses are like a show room Mine A sty Think I was born without the tidy gene I'm just a man who doesn't clean. Antique pizza found under the coach But how I wish I had a tidy house Piles of books everywhere If anyone came they couldn't find a chair. I tried housework some years ago But what I let myself in for I didn't know I bought every cleaning substance known to man I stood proud with a mop and bucket in my hands You used to be able to look out of the windows and see the trees I cleaned and scrubbed on my knees I threw loads of stuff away. It seemed I was cleaning night and day. Oh how I hate throwing things away I keep everything thinking It will come in handy one day But it never does. Oh won't someone come and clean for me I can't help it I'm such a busy bee. A man's work is never done Not because we do any Because it's far from fun No we just think about it And think some more Oh why is housework such a chore. ''Not a true story, but I avoid it as much as poss''. Peter Dome.copyright.2014. July. And now I'm sat here tired frustrated In my apron and rubber gloves
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