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Wi' spring-time fast approachin now an twa'r three bursts o sun,
E winter stoor shows in e hoose an makes ye want till run,
Boot wance e cleanin bug gets in yur blood soon starts till sing,
As ye wage war wi' cloot an Flash on ivry single thing.
Wur room wiz kinna moochy lek, e
walls wiz broon wi' smok,
Id looked at drab id seekind his, so then we ran amok,
Bocht twa'r three rolls o peyper an twa gret beeg tins o pent,
Then hommed in on e fou'some walls an gave wur muscles vent.
E peypur didna strip richt
off so sopp an watter lotion
Wiz clapped across e sticky bits an soon e magic potion
Wi help o twa blunt dennur-knives revealed e wall ablow,
Boot took an awful lock o time, wur progress wiz real slow.
Sa, fa wid pent e ceilin? Yes, ye've guessed id, poor owld me,
An elongated rollur wid be easy work, ah'd see,
Ah'm less than five feet two wi short airms, boy ah stretched at hard
Ma under-cleyz a perted an ma muscles turned till lard.
Ah'd pent ablow ma left eye-broo,
id streaked across ma airm,
Id dreeped intil ma eyes lek mad boot caused thum no real hairm,
Ah'd surgeon's cep clapped on ma heyd till keep id oot ma hair,
Boot michtni've bothered, fringe left oot choost beckoned skinites ere.
Wur Chanis did e wan wall at
we's hingin' peypur till,
An meyde a gran chob for first go (at least, id's hinging still),
Ah pented walls an glossed e doors, wur carpet's scrubbed lek new,
So, wan room's spring-cleaned for e year wi' three more left till do!
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