O' Laundry Day

O' laundry day, I cannot bare the thought Of piling up these clothes any higher. The devil on my shoulder says I ought To take a match and set'm all on fire. My knuckles, bitter with blue detergent, Scrape against the corner of the machine And although the pain is not urgent, It makes me want to throw my head back and scream. The sweat on my wrist takes the sweat off my brow Every time I enter the basement. The dryer's not done - oh wait - Joy! It is now, So on with the folding and placement. The day is spent - my clothes are finely done. I'm ready to go out and have some fun!