There’s not a lot I hate to do
Like I hate doing laundry
How dirty clothes self-generate
Has always been a quandary
Sometimes I’m a dynamo
And do it with a smile
But mostly it just sits ignored
An ever-growing pile
And if it could not get much worse
Then washing shirts and frocks
It’s folding everything real neat
And sorting mounds of socks!
It’s just the ceaseless pain of it
Is how I try to posit
Putting back the same old things
In every drawer and closet
Week after week year after year
Until we’re dead and buried
I’ll suffocate under my sheets
Away I must be carried
Like taxes unavoidable
The laundry must get done
We cannot run round naked yet
This battle can’t be won
If I were filthy rich with cash
You know what I would do?
I’d throw away my dirty clothes
Each day wear something new
I'd never wash another load
If you could you would too!