Washing Up Poem by John Carter Brown

'Grab a hold of that dish-cloth our Peter,
And give me a lift with these dishes;
We don't have a genie in this house
To help us, by giving three wishes.

It's manual labour our Peter,
A straightforward job in the sink;
A mountain of mucky old dishes
And then we can go for a drink.

Our Ena is ever so fussy though,
The glasses, they MUST be done first;
The cups and the plates are then easy,
The large greasy pans are the worst.'

'Put plenty of 'fairy' in Peter'
Said Fred, 'it will save you from scrubbing;
We'll soon have them spotless and shining
And then me and you can go clubbing.'

'Grab a hold of that towel our Freddie,
This mountain is now just a hill;
Just two more, then a colander Freddie,
And then I'll be on to the grill.'

Soon the hill was as flat as a pancake,
The dishes were done and all dry;
Fred and Peter were happy as sandboys,
To the boozer their feet would soon fly.

'Hey Ena! they're done, we have finished,
I told you we wouldn't get vexed; '
'Hey Peter, and Fred! no you haven't,
I told you, the ironing is next.'

(Written Jan 1996)