A little ditty for Alpine Papa, to explain why the house is always so chaotic when he comes home from work, and why our waistlines are ever-increasing…
Now please don’t moan or shout at me, please don’t have a stress,
I can see it for myself, I know the house is a right mess.
I’ve not done any washing up, I’ve been really rather busy,
I was going to do some dusting but the thought just made me dizzy.
I haven’t cleaned the bathroom, or hoovered round upstairs,
And dust bunnies under sofas have morphed into dust bears.
But although I’ve not had time to clean, I’ve still found time to bake,
So none of this stuff matters, because here there’s always cake.
There’s no food in the cupboards, and the fridge is cold and bare,
And I haven’t done the washing so there’s nothing clean to wear.
Dirty nappies keep on piling up, there’s a constant smell of poo,
The kids are turning feral, but there’s not much I can do.
The cat’s probably starving (I hope that she’s not dead…),
And don’t look in the bedroom as I haven’t made the bed.
I’ve had a very stressful day, you see, relaxing by the lake,
But none of this stuff matters because here there’s always cake.
You might come home to a messy house, with the kids going all berserk,
You might well ask what I’ve done all day, while you’ve been out at work.
You might not have any ironed shirts, and no pants on the shelf,
You might have to make the dinner, and do the washing up yourself.
Your friends have all got wives, I’m sure, who keep the house just right,
Unlike lazy little me, who’d sooner bake into the night.
But before you start to wonder if marrying me was a mistake,
Remember this stuff doesn’t matter, because here there’s always cake.