Mrs Mop – A poem

Exasperated and with some bluster

I charged through the house to reach the muster.

With a mop in hand and feather duster,

I polished the doorknob that had lost its lustre.

this may not sound like a lot of fun,

But a cleaner’s job is never done.


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People are far too complicated to be able to describe in a few words so I am not even going to try.

19 thoughts on “Mrs Mop – A poem”

  1. Never ever done…I washed all my bed linen yesterday morning and put fresh linen on my bed. Poor Darling Goldfinch had an almighty nosebleed last night…I am soaking my bed linen in stain removal ready to wash, dry and iron again.

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    1. It was more like an episode of ER or Casualty…
      …my mum used to watch a show called Jimmys (all filmed at St James Hospital in Leeds) – iy used to give me nightmares as a little one.

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  2. absolutely wonderful – so true, but nice to lend it a bit of humor – I hate cleaning especially since it only gets dirty again lol πŸ™‚

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    1. Me too, it’s like a never ending cycle isn’t it. The washing basket keeps refilling and the dishes keep building up. It’s tempting to make everyone go naked and eat off paper plates… but that’s the cost of civilisation I suppose. πŸ˜‰ Glad you liked my poem.

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