My job


                   My job

At whatever I do, I am topping,

The cooking,
the laundry, the shopping.

My job it will never be finished,

For the chores, they are never
diminished.

In the morning I rise with the
lark,

And am busy right up until dark.

I’m a nursemaid, a chauffeur, a
lackey,

There is nothing I do that is
tacky.

My job doesn’t end with a time
clock,

There is always a dirty 0uld sock.

How I envy the factory worker,
when he clocks off he hurries on home,

But the housewife, cum laundress,
cum driver, still hopes for a moment alone.

Would I change my thankless job
if I could?

Yes, you bet, I bloody well
would.

Advertisements

About margaretmarymurphy

I'm an elderly woman (1 husband 6 children 15 grandchildren & 1 great grandson ) I love talking, writing, looking at art & I take a porcelein painting class & can't for the day I get my own kiln.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to My job

  1. Ah, Margaret…you’ve captured my Sunday through Saturday as if peeking in my windows. Wait, you aren’t are you? 😀

  2. LOL, no, but it could be any mother’s window, not mine now thank god, that was written out of memory, my kids nearly all middle-aged now. thanks for all your comments on my blogs xx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s