Washing line talk
Washing line talk
Six legs, three jeans, and a pair of trousers, are hanging on the line.
A blouse, a shirt, two pairs of socks
But none of them are mine.
There shouting ‘hey you’ we’re dry now,
Pull us down from here,
We’re feeling rather hot now,
The shirt feels rather queer.
The jeans say iron me first
And make sure you do it proper,
The blouse insists I’ve no creases,
And I’d rather you didn’t bother.
The socks demand’ ‘Don’t iron me,
It affects the way I run,’
When you’ve been hanging from your toes all day,
It’s not a lot of fun.
The line is free and easy
The prop falls to the ground,
All the talk has gone,
Your left without a sound.
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