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A ONE SIDED CONVERSATION WITH A WASHING MACHINE,
or (No radio-controlled helicopter this year then!)
I’m having you! You one-eyed wassock!
Tha only three feet tall and two feet wide.
Made outa steel and glass and plastic,
Wi’ a lot of electric gubbins inside.
All tha can do is go backerds and forreds,
Backerds and forreds and then set off in a mad spin.
Only five bedraggled socks have come out,
SHE reckons there woz definitely eight PAIRS went in!
What's tha dun wi’em? Haztha etten ‘em?
Haztha got some kinda vendetta aggenst me?
Cos, nowt ever happens to HER stuff,
Tha goin’ to be dismantled, I’ll solve this mystery!
I’m gerrin’ fed up wi’ this,
It happens about this time every year!
Just as its coming up to Christmas,
Most of me socks and underpants disappear!
Duztha know? I’m begginin’ to wunder nar!
Maybe its HER wots doin’ it, and not thee!!
And kids are in on the plot an’all,
SHE’s chuckin’em away! It’s a blinkin’ conspiracy!
“We only need to get t’owd man some socks for Xmas,
He’ll be happy wi’ them”. Well, that’s what they think!
Lets see what response I get when I ask HER,
To hand-wash mi socks separately in t’kitchen sink!
It’ll be interesting to see what excuses SHE’ll come up wi’,
So, I’m not tekkin’ thee to bits, I’m purrin’ me tools away,
But, maybe me and thee have got unfinished business,
And we’ll have our fight to the death another day!
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