Cleaning Poem



I asked the Lord to tell me
Why my house is such a mess
He asked if I'd been 'computering',
And I had to answer 'yes.'

He told me to get off my butt,
And tidy up the house.
And so I started cleaning up...
The smudges off my mouse.

I wiped and shined the topside.
That really did the trick...
I was just admiring my good work.
I didn't mean to 'click.'

But click, I did, and oops - I found
A real absorbing site
That I got SO way into it -
I was into it all night.

So nothing's changed except my mouse.
It's as shiny as the sun.
I guess my house will stay a mess...
While I sit here on my bum.

How many people are sitting here not saying anything because they think this song is about them?

(Me me me!)

Me, too!

Dust is perpetual. It resettles the minute you turn your back.

Me three!

See.. housework SHOULDN'T be your priority: (Verse 3 wasn't in the original- I wrote it just for us FTers.)

Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but there's quizzes to play
A chance to learn something new every day;
Global Challenge and much, much more;
A crossword or two.. or three .. or four.


Dust if you must, but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.