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Death by Laundry



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!

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