I’d been waiting for this day,
when the rain had all gone away,
for I wanted to paint the house,
but hubby was being a louse.
It wasn’t HIS plan (he’s a lazy man),
so I told him there’d be no dinner,
and no doubt he’d get much thinner.
Boo hoo, I’m feeling blue!
Nag, nag, it’s such a drag.
I have to be blunt when I just get a grunt...
it makes me dejected when chores are neglected.
Then he leapt straight up off the sofa
with no hint of the idle loafer,
grabbed a brush and the paint
like a handyman saint,
and climbed up to begin the job.
(He can be quite an agile slob,
my couch-spud blob, my dear old Bob.)
Boo hoo, I’m feeling blue!
Nag, nag, it’s such a drag.
I have to be blunt when I just get a grunt...
it makes me dejected when chores are neglected.
With him above and me below,
he let his grumpy feelings show.
His mood did so truly vex
that I told him there’d be no more sex.
When we argued and squabbled
the high ladder wobbled,
and down he fell with a cursing yell.
Boo hoo, I’m feeling blue!
Nag, nag, it’s such a drag.
I have to be blunt when I just get a grunt...
it makes me dejected when chores are neglected.
That’s when my Bob kicked the bucket,
and of course I blurted out: “Fuck it!”
for the paint had all spilled
(I was not at all thrilled).
There’s Bob lying dead with a split-open head,
oh, drat and damn and holy cow!
How will the house get painted now?
Boo hoo, I’m feeling blue!
Nag, nag, it’s such a drag.
I have to be blunt when I just get a grunt...
it makes me dejected when chores are neglected.
After all of my threats
I have such huge regrets,
the biggest of which
(oh, I am such a bitch)
is that now I will have to atone
by sadly eating my dinner alone,
and, worse, there’ll be no more sex!
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