I told her

It’s a medical condition, is ‘washer uppers hand’,
Prevalent among the men who inhabit this land,
Though most of us will have a go’, many can relate,
That always, when you’ve finished, – there’s gravy on the plate.

I’ve tried the water ‘sudsy’, I’ve tried the water hot,
I’ve scrubbed em and I’ve rubbed em and  I’ve scrutinised the lot,
But when I get the tea towel out I find I am too late,
‘Cause there’s a stain and I’m to blame, – there’s gravy on the plate.

She thinks that I cut corners, and only wash one side,
Sometimes I do, (when the footies on!) but these I try to hide,
Then she finds out and shouts at me, with words she does berate,
‘How did I know?’, she tells me. ‘There’s gravy on the plate!’.

I’ll never be a winner, with ‘washer uppers hand’,
And the sink and suds and all that stuff I never will command,
If I’m in charge I tell, you never hesitate,
Inspect it before you eat it, there’ll be gravy on the plate!

(Think I’ll have salad!)
Mick
(Copyright Michael Westwood 2016)