As spring arrives, 'tis time to clean,
...garage with all its clutter,
I enter in with trepidation,
...beneath my breath do mutter,
"What a way to waste a day,"
...I hear the golf course beckon,
Alternative is p.o.'d wife,
...I guess I'll clean, I reckon.
I plan attack, I get push broom,
...I'll try head on assault,
I'm met with firm resistance,
...attack grinds to a halt,
I call for reinforcements,
...my kids are all A.W.O.L.,
It seems I'm in a quagmire,
...my cleaning's hit a wall.
I go inside to clear my head,
...perhaps a can of beer,
Then comes a voice from living room,
..."What's the problem dear?"
"Not a thing," my firm reply,
...as skulk back to garage,
Maybe all this useless junk,
...is just a bad mirage.
I think I'll try surprise attack,
...I whistle real gallantly,
Saunter in with broom in hand,
Then from above, and from all sides,
...garage lets loose, does fire,
Falling boxes, tons of dust,
...My gawd! A white-walled tire!
I'm no fool, I turn and run,
...I beat a quick retreat,
A can of beer, in sofa sit,
...I know when I've been beat.
[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 04-10-2000).]