I’m hanging up the washing
And I put it on the line,
And I think ‘How very lucky
That the weather’s nice and fine’.
I hang socks, pants and knickers
I hang blouses, I hang shirts,
I hang sloppy floppy jim-jams,
I hang stiff and starchy shirts,
I hang trousers, towels and pillow slips,
Sheets and spotty shorts,
I hang drip-drying dresses,
I hang jumpers of all sorts.
And I say it doesn’t matter
When the wind begins to howl,
But then it flurries in a hurry
And it whisks away a towel,
And the trousers and the blouses
Are blown all around the houses,
And the pillow slips do backward flips,
The socks zoom off on foreign trips,
The jumpers jump in wonder where
They’re joined by lots of underwear,
Then lightning flares and flickers
As a gust blows off the knickers,
And the jim-jams jaggle jiggle
And they do a little wiggle
Then they fly off through the sky.
But at least my washing’s dry!