My yard is something to be seen.
Look real hard and there are spots of green.
They were hiding underneath the snow.
Now the weeds will start to grow.


All winter long, I used the dryer.
The clothesline had fallen into the mire.
Now on a ladder I will climb
To hang a new one, when I have time.


First it will probably hang too low
And it will all tangle when the winds do blow.
Then I'll put it up too high
And my wash will flutter in the sky.


My sheets will blow off into the mud,
Pillowcases covered with crud!
To the park, I'll take my laundry
And beat it on a rock, all and sundry.


So I'll return to bygone days
They say hard labor really pays.
Me and the Troll will live in a cave.
Just think of all the money we'll save!


On the fire, I'll roast Brontosaurus
A great big haunch, and it's all for us!
Forget the laundry, no need to wash.
We'll dress in furs and be Oh, So Posh!




By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)


 



Watch these pages for more poems by Swampetta.
In the meantime, click the links below for other poems and stories by the authors at Lara's Den.


History Of The Shamrock

March Is Nigh

March Wind

The Leaf

The Fountain

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

The Social Worker

The Memory Jar


And.......for many others, click the index image.



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