Or before bath's were invented.
Washing day again.
Bath tub Infront of the fire,
First it was mum
The cleanest of the lot,
Then it was baby Abigail's turn.
I always hated that,
she always pissed in the pot.
Then it was Lilith my sister,
Three women in the family
Always seemed a lot.
Covered in so many smelly things,
She always perfumed the pot.
Then came greasy old Graham,
Laying tarmac was his one job.
After that it was coalminer dad,
That climbed into the tub.
I know that you must think I'm daft,
For some reason I don't feel I needed
A scrub.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 124 times
Written on 2024-04-13 at 05:21
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KEEPING IT CLEAN
Thin blue lines,Washing day again.
Bath tub Infront of the fire,
First it was mum
The cleanest of the lot,
Then it was baby Abigail's turn.
I always hated that,
she always pissed in the pot.
Then it was Lilith my sister,
Three women in the family
Always seemed a lot.
Covered in so many smelly things,
She always perfumed the pot.
Then came greasy old Graham,
Laying tarmac was his one job.
After that it was coalminer dad,
That climbed into the tub.
I know that you must think I'm daft,
For some reason I don't feel I needed
A scrub.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 124 times
Written on 2024-04-13 at 05:21
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
