I clean and scrub
vacuum and mop;
it goes on and on
and never stops.
There’s laundry
and shopping,
meals to cook too,
bills to pay
and banking to do.
She can have the dust,
the maid I entrust,
with a chore
I can’t handle anymore,
'cause there's other things
I would much rather do
like write and blog
and post at Yahoo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem