My dear, the house is spick-and-span,
Since you are gone, untidy man.
No neckties dangling from a chair,
No muddy footprints on the stair;
My ashtrays, I am proud to state,
Are every one, immaculate;
And when I dash upstairs to scrub
There is no ring around the tub.
No socks left lying on the floor,
No shorts hung on the bathroom door.
This is the way a house should be,
I've always said - but, well, you see,
The clock has stopped; I can't persuade it
To run the way you always made it.
The door to the garage won't work,
And the percolator won't perk.
My kitchen knives are dull as care
Without your expert touch, and there
Is no one to praise my lemon pies
Or comfort me with soothing lies,
Such as, "of course you're not too fat!
"Well anyhow, I like you like that!"
A house I find, though spick-and-span,
Is not much fun without a man!