supplied the illustration
LET US SPRAY
Dammit all! Another splash!
Now I'm going to do something rash!
I'm sick of all this constant spraying!
Rainy days are so delaying!
I'm veering over to the right!
Hold on! Hold on! Hold on tight!
Fasten your seat-belt! Say your prayers!
I'm going to drive straight up those stairs!
I visited a perfectionist four or five years ago!
His home was picture-perfect, with everything white as snow!
This shot is of the bedroom, but every room was the same,
With every sort of statuary that anyone could name!
There were angels, there were fairies, there were cupids by the score
And he even had a snow-white carpet lying on the floor!
It wasn't his wife who asked for it, though femininity ruled,
But visitors like us, 'Les Girls', positively drooled!
He'd plastered over the ceiling to resemble waves at sea;
White waves, of course, billowing across in neat virginity.
It was only an urban dwelling, fairly plain on the outside,
But that magic interior was ideal for a bride.
I couldn't have lived in that household, not being a perfect being,
And 'things' to dust and keep pristine were all that I kept seeing!
And I thought to myself what moving-house would ultimately entail!
It wasn't the sort of family home that would ever make a sale!
But just for a pleasant afternoon, with cream-cakes to the fore,
It was an experience.
Then I scuttled out the door!