The Cleaning Lady

Well, I sang Doughnut Boy to our young associate, the one person most likely to appreciate it, and it went over like a lead balloon. Which was to be expected; it was a homework assignment, after all. Not inspired.

Floating through my head since last Wednesday evening has been the germ of an idea for a parody of I Won't Send Roses, Robert Preston's un-love song to Bernadette Peters from Jerry Herman's 1974 musical, Mack and Mabel. Here's what I've got:

I don't do windows
Or scrub the floor;
No heavy lifting—
My back is sore.

I have my soaps from ten to two,
And at three-thirty, I am through.
My morning teatime
Is strictly "me" time.

I don't like children;
I'm rough on pets.
I smell of garlic
And cigarettes.

In case you haven't realized,
I'm not your shmoo.
I don't do windows.
In fact, I don't
Do
Poo.

Lyric © 2007 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

I hope everyone realizes that, by choosing a song from 1974, I'm going almost avant-garde. But I make up for it by reaching 'way back to 1948 for shmoo. Who, in this benighted age, knows what a shmoo is?

Incidentally, this song in no way is intended to reflect adversely on my own cleaning lady, who is exemplary. When she shows up.