A painting at an angle,
A book not on its shelf
My earphones in a tangle,
I’ll clean them up myself.
My bed’s wrinkled and messy,
The pillows all askew
I hope I’m not too fussy
If I make your bed too.
The windows! Oh, the windows are
dusty and full of grime
To wash them less than thrice would be
a terrible, terrible crime
The pots and pans are in the sink
The plants, freshly watered
The letter’s written in nice blue ink
The chicks have all been slaughtered
The bills have all been paid and the
notices been read
I hope that this will silence
the itch inside my head.