I is for Ironing. The chore women most hate to do…
I wish I had more time each day,
Just to sit and tap away
Putting down on a clean white sheet
All my thoughts, it’s no mean feat.
Does anybody want to know
Where my everyday thoughts go
I want to write about everything
Instead I do my ironing
And let my daydreams bring me where
I write daily about love affairs
Or murder mysteries on a train
Where a young man has gone insane
To find that his one true love
Thinks that he is unworthy of
All that she has to give,
He realises that he will not outlive
This femme fatale with hair of blazing red
As she fires her pistol until he is dead.
She should have stayed at home like me…
Ironing her smalls
Instead of shooting her lover in the balls.