You tell me do your laundry and I gag on your request,
I might as well set fire to it - that putrid, stinking mess!
Who am I to make a fuss when I'm catering to you?
I'm your mother doing what I'm just supposed to do.

And your gym socks smell too much -
Impossible to touch,
And I want to hold my nose and hide!
The fumes could make me die -
It brings water to my eyes -
I hold my breath until the nausea subsides.

Housework and dirty laundry seem to be my lot in life -
But through all the monotony creativity survives.
I'm just another genius still buried in dishpans -
A dormant novelist who's awash with garbage cans.

'Cause your gym socks smell too much -
Impossible to touch -
And I have to hold my nose and hide!
I'll grin and bear it 'till I die -
It'll be eternity -
"Till you grow up and learn to do your own laundry!

Why must I always ground you until you clean your room?
You've outgrown wearing diapers, so what's making all those fumes?
I find your dirty underwear just by following my nose -
I think you got so dirty just by planting me a rose.
Sometimes I think you trust me and you think that I'm your friend -
A mother - not a laundress then aggrivation flares again!

Your gym socks smell too much -
Impossible to touch -
And it makes me want to curse and swear!
Do you see that washer there -
In that little room downstairs?
Learn to use it the way you learned to drive your car!