Men Cleaning Women Cannot Abide
My wife said she was going out to shop,
I knew she'd be gone for hours,
So I cleaned the house from bottom to top,
Then went out and bought her some flowers.
On arriving home she asked what's that smell,
I boasted I had just cleaned the house,
With what she said it's like something from Hell,
It stinks like a hundred dead grouse.
By doing the cleaning I thought you'd be flattered,
She said exactly what have you cleaned,
That really left my giant ego shattered,
How dare she leave me feeling demeaned?
The house is filthy what did you use,
I replied the same stuff as you,
She said it's my intelligence you're trying to abuse,
I'll now have to start cleaning anew.
What have you done to my kitchen floor?
You've got it full of stellar streaks,
The worktops are scratched like an old barn door,
My mop bucket's now full of leaks.
The toilet is filthy I said no it's not,
She said look at the state of the pan,
You've left enough stains to play dot to dot,
As for cleaning you're now on a ban.
She'll be so impressed she'll be singing,
That's what I honestly thought,
Now she's saying I've got the house minging,
Remember good cleaners cannot be bought.
I walked away totally deluded and sad,
It's moan if we don't then moan if we do,
If they had a self- cleaning house they'd still go mad,
I'm going down to the pub for a brew.
The moral of my story affects far more than me,
It's a problem that is truly worldwide,
It's a sexist thing I'm sure all males would agree,
‘' Men Cleaning, Women Cannot Abide ‘'
‘' They think we do it deliberately''
Related quotes
Cleaning House
I have this relationship
with cleaning my house
meticulously
everyday;
work
that is never done.
I have this relationship
with cleaning my house
which is poorly
understood.
All around seem oblivious
to the work
involved
in this home environment
and like despoilers-
clothes get strewn
and dishes left-
for the cleaner of the house;
because I,
unlike them,
can't bear to see my self esteem
cluttered like that
every day
with dirt and dust.
I then take the cloth
and clean what is precious to me.
.
I have this relationship with my house
which even in this,
my family
is poorly understood.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cleaning Windows
Oh, the smell of the bakery from across the street
Got in my nose
As we carried our ladders down the street
With the wrought-iron gate rows
I went home and listened to jimmie rodgers in my lunch-break
Bought five woodbines at the shop on the corner
And went straight back to work.
Oh, sam was up on top
And I was on the bottom with the v
We went for lemonade and paris buns
At the shop and broke for tea
I collected from the lady
And I cleaned the fanlight inside-out
I was blowing saxophone on the weekend
In that down joint.
Whats my line?
Im happy cleaning windows
Take my time
Ill see you when my love grows
Baby dont let it slide
Im a working man in my prime
Cleaning windows (number a hundred and thirty-six)
I heard leadbelly and blind lemon
On the street where I was born
Sonny terry, brownie mcghee,
Muddy waters singin Im a rolling stone
I went home and read my christmas humphreys book on zen
Curiosity killed the cat
Kerouacs dharma bums and on the road
Whats my line?
Im happy cleaning windows
Take my time
Ill see you when my love grows
Baby dont let it slide
Im a working man in my prime
Cleaning windows...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring Cleaning
Clean away the cobwebs
make light of dirt and grime
wave high those feather dusters
it's now spring cleaning time
for spring's first day has broken
and those windows must be cleaned
cold winter's grey has gone away
replaced with fresher scenes
ah! the joy of such spring cleaning
oh! the joy of household life
sometimes i am the paragon
of a 1950's wife!
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I always clean before the cleaning lady comes. If not, when I come home, I can't find anything. Cleaning ladies are always hiding things you leave out.
quote by Celia Cruz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man Your Garbage
Your the left over that no one eats
You just rot in the fridge
Until someone throws it away
Your the dirty dishes that no one
Want to clean up
Cause the left overs are still in the pan
Your the trash that stinks up the house
Your the junk that I need to throw away
But don't have the heart to
Your everything that I don't need
And yet your still here
Stinking up the place and rotting away
It's time to start cleaning up the place
And I'm gonna start by
Throwing all your stuff out the window
So don't be surprised if all your stuff
Is in a with all of left overs
And dirty dishes
And the trash
And the junk
All the stuff that's garbage
Including all your stuff that crowds up my place
Sweeping The Ashes
I am sweeping the ashes from my fireplace today
Because today is cleaning day at my house
And I want to have a clean house for the weekend also
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smelling For Decades
Don't you find it ironic,
That those who laughed...
At the efforts made by others,
Are today those very same people...
Who have flushed themselves down toilets.
And now complain and place the blame,
On the ones cleaning up the mess...
Those who laughed but now in tears,
Have created.
'I don't find that to be ironic.
I find that to be a wish! '
A wish?
'Yes.
Think about it.
If the only thing you knew and was taught,
Is to flush yourself down the toilet...
Wouldn't you be suspicious,
Of someone committed as if devoted...
To a cleaning up behind you?
And with a doing done to ignore your laughter?
Looking at it from their perspective...
I would think those choosing to do that as fools too! '
I hadn't thought of it like that!
'You should.
This atmosphere has been smelling for decades.
And those accustomed to it...
Well,
That stench is all they have known.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I can't write if someone else is in the house, not even the cleaning woman.
quote by Patricia Highsmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strike!
I'll admit I was running late that day,
Back home from the trailer park,
It was cold and wet in the alleyway
As I made my way in the dark,
My wife had run off with the milkman
Left me caring for two young boys,
They were at that age - you know the one,
Where they scatter the house with toys!
The hall was lying in darkness, but
I could hear them, back in the house,
Their voices raised in an argument,
The why's and the where's, and how's,
I walked on into the kitchen, then
And stood stock still at the door,
If I hadn't been self-possessed that day
My jaw would have hit the floor!
‘Okay, fess up! Who brought it home? '
But Tim just gave me a scowl,
‘It's mine, but Robbie's a sookie moan! '
Then Robert began to howl;
‘It isn't fair, it's always the best
That he gets, it's never enough! '
‘I thought they were fixed, ' said Tim at last,
‘But his must have fallen off! '
I looked at the head on the table, it
Was fixed with a crooked grin,
There wasn't a sign of blood on it,
And it had a wax-like skin,
‘Are you sure it's real? ' I reached on out
To poke it, there on the cheek,
But the eyelids flew wide open, stared,
And my heart - it stopped for a week!
‘I found it out in a puddle, in
The alleyway out the back,
I picked it up and I brought it home
Tucked into my haversack.'
I sat them down and I pointed out
That we couldn't go keeping heads,
As the sweat broke out on my brow to think
Just what I'd say to the Feds!
Their mother rang, she was on her way
To collect some more of her stuff,
I freaked, and hurried the boys away,
And I got them cleaning up,
I swore them both to a pact with me,
They mustn't whisper a thing,
For mothers are pretty touchy, see,
When they take off that wedding ring!
I took the head, had put it away
By the time that she rang the bell,
The Milkman lurked in the alleyway,
For him, it was just as well;
She took her clothes and the bowling bag,
They were off to the Ten Pin Bowl,
I mused, were the nostrils flared enough
To pass for a ten pound ball!
13 August 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Artist Only
I'm painting, I'm painting again.
I'm painting, I'm painting again.
I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning again.
I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning my brain.
Pretty soon now, I will be bitter.
Pretty soon now, will be a quitter.
Pretty soon now, I will be bitter.
You can't see it 'til it's finished
I don't have to prove...that I am creative!
I dont' have to prove...that I am creative!
All my pictures are confused
And now I'm going to take me to you
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There we times when everybody in the house has the flu. You're cleaning up vomit and it's 2 in the morning, and you're wishing there was somebody else there to help you.
To All Future Husbands
No matter
How much
I educate
My daughter,
If she's not
A good cook
Nor a good
Whore to you
In bed, you
Wouldn't fancy her.
It's the age of
Equality.
If you want your
Wife to work
And bring in
Money…
Why not ask
Your mothers
To teach you
Some cooking
And cleaning
So you can
Share the
Housework.
Instead of being
Brought up
To think
That no matter,
How much
Your wife
Works…
She'll always be
Up and ready,
To do all the
Serving…
And you, the
Lord of the house,
The most deserving,
Unflurried by the fact
That - to be the lady
Of the house, being
A mother, a wife,
A daughter-in-law,
Is Oh! So! Nerve-wracking,
So very tiring, for a woman
Working…
(Theme: Message)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Out Of My House
(hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!)
When you left, the door was
(slamming!)
You paused in the doorway
(slamming!)
As though a thought stole you away.
(slamming!)
I watched the world pull you away.
(lock it!)
So I run into the hall,
(lock it!)
Into the corridor.
(lock it!)
Theres a door in the house
(slamming).
I hear the lift descending.
(slamming!)
I hear it hit the landing,
(slamming!)
See the hackles on the cat
(standing).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(let me in!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes,
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains away.
(get out of my house!)
This house is as old as I am.
(slamming.)
This house knows all I have done.
(slamming.)
They come with their weather hanging round them,
(slamming.)
But cant knock my door down!
(slamming.)
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it).
This house is full of m-m-my mess.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-mistakes.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-madness.
(slamming.)
This house is full of, full of, full of fight!
(slam it.)
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(its cold out here!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(get out of my house!)
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
(get out of my house!)
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes.
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Wont enter me.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Yeah! wont let you in!
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Let me in!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the memories!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the devil dreams!
I will not let you in!
Dont you bring back the reveries.
I turn into a bird,
Carry further than the word is heard.
Woman let me in!
I turn into the wind.
I blow you a cold kiss,
Stronger than the songs hit.
I will not let you in.
I face towards the wind.
I change into the mule.
I change into the mule.
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw...
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clean Slate
Envy of, a sense of true identity, a sign of confidence to see.
Because when she said "I love that music, too,"
she meant, "Only as long as you want me too."
So sad, we don't see, until we become what they want us to be.
It's too late.
I don't know why,
but what they want me to do,
I do it.
Powered by wealth,
changing myself,
and if they only knew that I knew it.
And it seems that the real life will have to wait,
because the world's so busy,
so busy, cleaning a clean slate.
Oh.
Ahh, hoping to find what's mine,
so I can lead a full life,
use a knife,
and dig in like a cannibal.
Out for,
for myself, but all the things I want are serving someone else.
I don't know why,
but what they want me to do,
I do it.
Powered by wealth,
changing myself,
and if they only knew that I knew it.
And it seems that the real life will have to wait.
As the world keeps cleaning, it's cleaning.
The spin cycle runs round.
A clear decision can be found.
Can't think when my mind,
my mind runs 'round.
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing up is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.
quote by Phyllis Diller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Artists Only
Im painting, Im painting again.
Im painting, Im painting again.
Im cleaning, Im cleaning again.
Im cleaning, Im cleaning my brain.
Pretty soon now, I will be bitter.
Pretty soon now, will be a quitter.
Pretty soon now, I will be bitter.
You cant see it til its finished
I dont have to prove...that I am creative!
I dont have to prove...that I am creative!
All my pictures are confused
And now Im going to take me to you.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Laughter
They said they were sending two men
Two men not one
They would come,
Unnannouced
Into the place where you were living
The place where you were sleeping ad eating
The place where you were wasted time
And losing sleep and memories
The place where there was too much to do
And nothing to fill in the hours lost between
sleeping and eating and cleaning and waking
And taking back
And not taking
The things you had lost
The loves forsaking
The laughter
The days without speaking
The rooms full of weeping
Of not getting things done
A house full of fun
A place full of rest and unrest
Unwashed glasses
Silent protests in
Unpaid bills
They said they would come
Unnannouced
To your house
When you were ill
And too happy to know
That the laughter
Was the cause of it all
The cause of a fall
A high pitch screeching
A howling
A holler
They said Two men would come, not one,
When you were laughing and having such fun
When had stopped feeling rotten
Forgotten the plot
Left those dark looks aside
When you were out of control rolling about on the floor
Crying with laughter tears in your eyes
Two men would come
You would here them knock on your door
You would see them waiting outside through the glass
And when you asked them 'Why? '
Their swift reply would Be 'Just don't ask'
The they would take you away, no cup of tea
No polite tete,
The interrogation would begin
'Don't you know it's a crime, a sign of the times? '
And you will reply 'What? I was just havin a laugh'
Then a photograph and a finger print
Then a hand round your throat
And a sinister grin that will pass
It's on the tip if your tongue
'Why two men and not one? and where's your white coats? '
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have sporadic OCD cleaning moments around the house. But then I get lazy and I'm cured. It's a very inconsistent personality trait.
quote by Chris Hemsworth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scrub, Scrub, Rub-a dub dub
Scrub, scrub, rub-a-dub, dub
cleaning is such a chore.
Scrub, scrub, rub-a-dub, dub
cleaning's such a bore.
Washing, dusting every day,
seems there is no end.
I know that when I'm finished
it will start all over again.
Windows, floors and kitchen sinks
just can't seem to stay clean.
The kids go out. The kids come in
and there's the same old scene.
Wash the clothes. Let them dry.
Put them on to wear.
Before the day is over
there's a spot that wasn't there.
Scrub, scrub, rub-a-dub dub
when will it ever stop?
If I could find those rub-a dub men
I'd gladly give them my mop.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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