The cleaning lady speaks
My deadly enemies are dust and fluff.
I am the scourge of cobwebs great and small.
Just watch me turn out, empty, clean and buff -
I won’t put up with any wisps at all.
A house that’s quite in order, spick and span,
Means life can always have a new beginning.
My boss calls me - he’s never wrong, that man -
‘The Mondriaan of hearth and table linen.’
His fine arm chairs were never to my liking.
His standard lamp has now become strip lighting.
I’m a broom artist when all’s said and done.
I let the junk man have his bed - along
With thick and down-filled duvets. He’s quite sure
To dream both sound and sweet upon the floor.