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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Germ Free Adolescent
I know you're antiseptic
Your deodorant smells nice
I'd like to get to know you
But you're deep frozen like the ice
He's a germ free adolescent
Cleanliness is her obsession
Cleans her teeth ten times a day
Scrub away scrub away scrub away
The S.R. way....
You may get to touch her
If your gloves are sterilised
Rinse your mouth with listerine
Blow disinfectant in her eyes
Her phobia is infection
She needs one to survive
It's her built-in protection
Without fear she'd give up and die
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Germ Free Adolescent
I know you're antiseptic
Your deodorant smells nice
I'd like to get to know you
But you're deep frozen like the ice
He's a germ free adolescent
Cleanliness is her obsession
Cleans her teeth ten times a day
Scrub away scrub away scrub away
The S.R. way....
You may get to touch her
If your gloves are sterilised
Rinse your mouth with listerine
Blow disinfectant in her eyes
Her phobia is infection
She needs one to survive
It's her built-in protection
Without fear she'd give up and die
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I thought it was going to take a lot more countdowns on the pad. We actually did scrub once, but I figured we'd scrub several times since it's a pretty complicated vehicle.
quote by Robert Crippen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obama Wont Mama
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Obama wont mama no ship,
With folks on it lazy.
He's already warned there'll be some changes made.
It you think he'll let you sit,
You're crazy.
He's gonna make discipline stick quick.
If you don't believe it...
You'll believe it when you sweep up your ssshhhh...
Itsy bits.
With sweat and elbows greased to mix.
You wont have time for bitterness.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Ooooohhhh!
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
Change, real change you can believe.
You might as well roll up your sleeves...
Hand a dustpan to those sleeping.
Obama wont mama no ship,
With folks on it lazy.
He's already warned there'll be some changes made.
It you think he'll let you sit,
You're crazy.
He's gonna make discipline stick quick.
If you don't believe it...
You'll believe it when you sweep up your ssshhhh...
Itsy bits.
Take that scrub brush,
And that mop.
Start from the corners...
And clean this mess up, baby.
'Don't wanna.
I don't wanna.
Don't wanna...
Or gonna! '
'WE CAN...'
And,
You will!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crowded Tub
There are too many kids in this tub
There are too many elbows to scrub
I just washed a behind that I'm sure wasn't mine
There are too many kids in this tub.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I was raised by a single mother who made a way for me. She used to scrub floors as a domestic worker, put a cleaning rag in her pocketbook and ride the subways in Brooklyn so I would have food on the table. But she taught me as I walked her to the subway that life is about not where you start, but where you're going. That's family values.
quote by Al Sharpton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Famine and The Feast
THE FAMINE
Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
How many eggs did you get to-day?
None in the manger, and none in the shed,
None in the box where the chickens are fed,
None in the tussocks and none in the tub,
And only a little one out in the scrub.
Oh, I say! Dumplings to-day.
I fear that the hens must be laying away.
THE FEAST
Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
How many eggs did you get to-day?
Two in the manger, and four in the shed,
Six in the box where the chickens are fed,
Two in the tussocks and ten in the tub,
And nearly two dozen right out in the scrub.
Hip, hooray! Pudding to-day!
I think that the hens are beginning to lay.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Opening
Open this book after closing it,
A page from a crafty pen is written;
The ink and sheets of paper stay together,
A dagger can not sigh on the word.
The book jests like a scrub and wash,
Cleaning the mind so offered,
The minds themselves exit the shrine,
Worship causes us to listen, to shatter.
This volume concerns us with its joy
And builds into a sandwich called knowledge.
We are offended by readers who just stare,
As they glare at the pages with triumph.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unseen
something's wrong with mother always cleaning the house
and father complains for she does nothing but sweep and scrub
and dust and wipe and rub,
the floors are shiny and father does not like it
he may slide and the children too
and each may hurt the body, but mother cannot be stopped
and we complain like what father does, but mother does not
really mind, for she has become so hardheaded because father
slaps her and we make her deaf with our grumblings
until then when mother died and father cried and we felt we had all our
lives wasted, but there was one in the family who smiled
someone who thought that mother simply did what she liked best
clean the dirt, mop the floors, get all the spider's cobwebs
someone sees the beauty of mother, she's doing her chores still
but now unseen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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More I Want To Do
I clean and scrub
vacuum and mop;
it goes on and on
and never stops.
There’s laundry
and shopping,
meals to cook too,
bills to pay
and banking to do.
She can have the dust,
the maid I entrust,
with a chore
I can’t handle anymore,
'cause there's other things
I would much rather do
like write and blog
and post at Yahoo.
poem by Carolyn Brunelle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Joy Ride
Like a dog with the television on
Staring blankly at the screen the way you do
I'll keep you there and your money too
If you all line up inside of here
Do what I tell ya and everything will be okay
And if youre lost, I got a bobblehead Jesus
Get on your knees, that Jesus will please ya'
Money is clean if we scrub it good with
Guns and gasoline, I'm gonna save the world
Nothing's obscene if we only close our eyes
Boys and girls welcome to this joy ride
Come on all of you wont left alive
Get in line and everything will be fine
We gotta toss our troubles to the wind
We need 'em like we did in the end
Money is clean if we scrub it good with
Guns and gasoline, I'm gonna save the world
Nothing's obscene if we only close our eyes
Boys and girls welcome to this joy ride
Joyride, joyride, joyride
[scatting]
Taking everything into account the way you should
Light it up, light it up cuz it be so good
Woah, Yeah, Oh, all of us praying now
Now, Yeah, Yeah, all of us praying now
What you got [scatting]..always fade away
Money is clean if we scrub it good with
Guns and gasoline, I'm gonna save the world
Nothing's obscene if we only close our eyes
Boys and girls welcome to this joyride
Joyride, joyride, joyride
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stolen Generation
They took me from my mother
But I didn’t even know
I was just a few months old
And she knew not where I’d go
She was a big black woman
I don’t know about my dad
Its now I have my grandchildren
That I’m starting to feel sad
I have blue eyes and had blonde hair
But it’s now greying gradually
I couldn’t say I was an Abo
Or they’ take the brush to me
Scrub away your blackness
Said the nuns in the Church school
Religion’s here to save you
But you must obey our rules
Rule one – you just be grateful
You’re in white society
Rule two – you must be silent
And accept humility
I scrubbed and scrubbed my body
Till I couldn’t scrub no more
The scrubbing didn’t make me white
Just made my skin red raw
I was made to feel ashamed you see
Of being just what I am
And those bastards in the priest house
Were even crueller than
Those who’d broke a family
And split us up at birth
That’s why they should say sorry
For all that they are worth.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drought Year
That time of drought the embered air
burned to the roots of timber and grass.
The crackling lime-scrub would not bear
and Mooni Creek was sand that year.
The dingo's cry was strange to hear.
I heard the dingoes cry
in the scrub on the Thirty-mile Dry.
I saw the wedgetail take his fill
perching on the seething skull.
I saw the eel wither where he curled
in the last blood-drop of a spent world.
I heard the bone whisper in the hide
of the big red horse that lay where he died.
Prop that horse up, make him stand,
hoofs turned down in the bitter sand
make him stand at the gate of the Thirty-mile Dry.
Turn this way and you will die-
and strange and loud was the dingoes' cry.
poem by Judith Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bath Of Least Resistance
Too many words on the the tip of my tongue and
I can never figure out
When to speak when to shout when to shut up
When to knock myself out
I need a brainwash
Gray-matter bath
I need the clutter all
Thrown in the trash
So could ya please throw my head in a tub?
I could really use a cereberal scrub
Wash away all I know
It's an overrated frontal lobe
Expensive thrills
sexual perversity
are always filling my mind
Mixed with guilt
Cause of bombs over dresden
Are kinda bringing me down
I need a brainwash
Gray-matter bath
I need the clutter all
Thrown in the trash
I need a brainwash cause I'm aloon
Cause Im a psycho-babble brain
A real life looney toon
A mixed up maniac, Im certifyable
So put me in a room right next to Nicholson
And give me thorazine Cause all I wanna do
Is sing traditional songs
But I like to sing in minor technologies
Not making sense
So could you please throw my head in a tub
I could really use a cereberal scrub
Waste away all I know
It's an over rated frontal lobe
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Madam and Her Madam
I worked for a woman,
She wasn't mean--
But she had a twelve-room
House to clean.
Had to get breakfast,
Dinner, and supper, too--
Then take care of her children
When I got through.
Wash, iron, and scrub,
Walk the dog around--
It was too much,
Nearly broke me down.
I said, Madam,
Can it be
You trying to make a
Pack-horse out of me?
She opened her mouth.
She cried, Oh, no!
You know, Alberta,
I love you so!
I said, Madam,
That may be true--
But I'll be dogged
If I love you!
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Begin challenging your own assumptions. Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in awhile, or the light won't come in.
quote by Alan Alda
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Floor Technicians
A new job
A new title
Master of floors, a technician, they now call me
No matter the name
This is a tough game
Not appreciated very much
The work that we do
Floors trampled upon
Snow, ice and all the elements
Oh no please don't misconstrue
Thankful to have a job
We strip and we scrub
End of the day
Feels so good to soak
In that warm tub
Shine on crazy floor tech
shine on
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jack Cornstalk as a Drover
“Dry scrub and dusty clearing
The long, hot, drowsy day;
The land line ever nearing
And ever far away.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Let me tell about Wouter
Let me tell about Wouter
standing against all wars
and who didn’t want to go
to a military camp.
He then got
three years jail sentence
and with a criminal record
he went
to the detention barracks
where the colonel said:
“Wouter you are a naughty boy
and I will get you right quickly,
if you want to stay alive in this camp.”
First he had to scrub lavatories
in pace
with the marching stick
hitting holes out of his hands
and suddenly stand straight to attention
when his task was completed.
He was grabbed and forced naked
into a cold shower
where they wanted to scrub him clean
of his faith
with scrubbing wire and a mop
and he didn’t
wrestle or kick
and didn’t stop believing
in his faith.
On command he was taken
to a instructor
that had to teach him
things about a gun.
“I know that you have no faith, ”
he said to him
because he believed differently
and when he didn’t want
to touch the gun
the corporal opened
his own pants
and pulled his own dingeling out
and pressed both in his face.
At a time he came under the boot
and still it didn’t strip him
of what he believed
and after three years of hell
he was free
in his country
where people really believed in God.
Still I wonder in my soul
and when I faced the enemy
with guns and tanks
who was the most brave
between him and me
and still I cannot get
Wouter out of my thoughts
and I wonder what God
thinks in his heaven
about a army
that gives pain
to people that are different
and when I get on my knees
I pray for both Wouter and me
[Reference: i sing of Olaf glad and big by e.e. Cummings.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Adventure
We found one evening, in the scrub,
a road the timber-getters made,
a winding, dim, mysterious track,
and we raced down it, half afraid.
The wild-hop vines grew high aloft,
a winter's chill was in the air,
and trailing sarsaparilla swung
it's purple glory everywhere.
Then, curled within a hollow stump
down in a gully dim and deep,
we held our breaths with awe to find
four dingo puppies fast asleep!
We stroked them, trembling, for we knew
that somewhere in the forest dim,
there lurked amid the gathering shades
the gaunt old mother, fierce and grim.
The dry leaves rustled, back we sped
to where the homelight beckoned warm,
to supper-time and Mother's smile;
and nestling near her safe from harm.
We, thrilling, gazed into the night
where twinkling stars rose high and dim,
above the darksome scrub, where lurked
the dingo mother fierce and grim!
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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