I've been feeling wishy washy
On this narrow boat of mine
I'm an uneasy Widow Twanky
Cast in a personal pantomime

I have urgent laundry needs
The basket is very full,
But the weather's not looking too favourable
The skies are grey and dull

You can almost guarantee it
As the machine begins to drain
There'll be a few preliminary spots
Followed closely by biblical rain

There are hazards of drying inside
There'll be moisture in the air
But I need to get my washing on
Because I'm short of underwear

There'll be a lot of condensation
On windows, blinds and bungs
Misting up my plastic cratch covers
And settling on my lungs

With dripping knickers and socks
and damp clothing in my face
Every available surface gets used
But there's really not the space

I've a couple of collapsible airers
And folding spider creations
And radiators that I won't turn on
Not keen on steamy inhalations

Towels are a drying nightmare
They don't vaporise as they should
In Winter I put them by the fire
But then they stink of coal and wood

Drying bedding is most unwieldy
Ghostly sheets hang upon the doors
Pillow cases drape like wet bunting
And I can't cope with all the vapours

I could book for a service wash
If I can find a launderette
But I don't air my washing in public
Preferring my soils to stay private