The Day My Washing Took Flight

The Day My Washing Took Flight

I got up early this morning,
To get my washing done,
But Prince, my dog, had other ideas,
He wanted to play and have fun.

The weather was rather breezy,
In fact, it was blowing a gale,
And every time I went outside,
Prince would start to wail.

So while Prince sat there eating,
I sneaked outside without a shout,
I had barely finished hanging it,
When my neighbour began to shout.

Hey Jenny, your washing is flying,
It is blowing all about.
Well, it should be, I answered,
That is what drying is all about.

No Jenny, down the street, she cried,
Your washing is on its way.
Oh blooming heck, I shouted,
And off I ran that day.

I had not even got my shoes,
There was nothing on my feet,
And there I was in my nightdress,
Chasing washing down the street.

I stood upon a pebble,
It dug right into my toe,
But that washing flew at ninety miles an hour,
And after it I had to go.

Eventually, it landed,
Right inside the butcher’s shop,
And when I came in hopping,
The laughter would not stop.

Hey Jenny, what is going on?
Why is your washing in my shop?
The wind blew all my pegs away,
They simply went ker-plop.

My washing had a mind of its own,
It did not want to stay,
And every single item,
Had decided to fly away.

I am sorry that my nightdress,
Has given you such a shock,
But next time my washing visits,
I will tell it first to knock.

At least you will have some warning,
If my bloomers come your way,
And please do not start your gossip,
I have had enough today.

The butcher started laughing,
And said, you are in a mood,
Here, take these two carrier bags,
I do not mean to sound rude.

Put one upon each foot, love,
They will keep the wet away,
And stop you treading on those stones,
While you are out here today.

Thank you kindly, Mr Jones,
You have really been quite charming,
But have you got another bag?
My washing is rather alarming.

An hour later, I got home,
With washing in my arms,
Prince just sat and looked at me,
As though he had done no harm.

I knew I would have to wash it,
And hang it out again,
But I could not face another round,
Of chasing it down the lane.