I’m out of school at end of day

To me just one desire,

To hurry home to my house

And sit beside the fire.

 

I reach my home, insert the key

And quickly step inside.

I’m greeted by a howling wind

The back door open wide.

 

I peek into the living room

I just want to scream

The roaring fire hidden

Behind a wall of steam.

 

This is the day I dread

I just want to go away

Oh No! I don’t like Mondays

Today is washing day.

 

In the back I hear my mother

Fighting with the mangle

A giant of wood and metal

As she tries to turn the handle.

 

Two dolly tubs hold washing

A large gas boiler bubbles

Will people in the future

Put up with all these troubles?

 

Washing started early morn

Till late in the afternoon

I just want it over

Tonight can’t come too soon

 

The maiden round the fire

Wet clothes everywhere

The air is cold and damp

I wish I was not there

 

In the kitchen is a rainbow

I don’t find this appealing

It’s from a line of washing

Suspended from the ceiling.
 

As a cascade of water droplets

Sound like a mighty roar

As they fall down ‘pitter patter’

To newspaper on the floor

 

The day has not yet finished

The washing stands in a drove

Next will come the ironing

The flat iron on the stove.

 

To check the heat, mum had no gauge

She used her index finger

A lick, a touch, hear the hiss

But important, do not linger.

​

No use in shouting or moaning

No matter how much I shriek

Though I’m glad when it’s all over

It will be just the same next week.