Out, damn’d dirt! Out, I say!
I entreat you, be gone from my hardwood floors this day
Swiffer in hand, I walk this abode all the hours long,
My heart a-full with dark song
Why must this grit persist?
We are not that kind of a home, I insist!
When I wake, I run the Roomba, and that’s not a moment too soon
At noon, comes the Dyson vacuum
The evening brings the Wet Jet
And yet and yet! This dirt remains set
Oh how I long for a clean, clean floor
Shining in the sun, greeting me as I walk through the door
I crave that smooth, silky feel beneath my feet,
No dust, no junk, no earthly particles do I want to meet
No crumbs, no scraps
No Lego pieces that go snap
No shriveled Cheerios
No nastiness from heaven knows
I want “House Beautiful” clean,
Scandinavian cosmopolitan clean,
Never-have -to-wash-your-gray-feet at night clean
Friends, do you know what I mean?
But this city air plus three little ones’ daily plunder and thunder
Continually tears my cleaning efforts asunder
‘Tis a losing battle I fight,
Yet I won’t be resigned to this plight
And so out damn’d dirt! Out, I say!
And I’ll Roomba, vacuum, mop, and Swiffer yet another day