Mummy, I feel sick. . .

Batten down the hatches,
The sickness bug is here,
Everyone on stand by,
Keep the carpet cleaner near,
No non-essential washing,
We need all the space we’ve got,
It’s amazing how much bedding,
You can get through on a cot,
Forget about the bucket,
Children never make it there,
You’ll be hosing down the cushions,
While you’re rinsing out their hair,
You’re sure that you’ve been thorough,
Scrubbed and washed it all away,
But even then that smell,
Will linger on and on for days,
And when at last it’s over,
Carpets cleaned and washing done,
The next one’s looking queasy,
Isn’t carpet cleaning fun?

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2 thoughts on “Mummy, I feel sick. . .

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