Bottom of the Bowl

THE TEASPOON AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BOWL. for older children
In these days of astro-travel, hover craft and high-speed train,
Mankind's begun to think he knows it all,
But there's one obscure phenominum he never will explain
Though he bangs his cerebellum on the wall.
Of dishes in the sink, sure everyone has done his share,
A chore I guarantee destroys the soul,
And no matter what your class or creed, you'll find it lurking
there;
I mean the teaspoon at the bottom of the bowl.

The teaspoon at the bottom of the bowl cannot be beat,
Cannot be killed, cannot be cured, cannot be found,
He's an evil sort of rear-guard who will not admit defeat,
And he'll be there at the bottom I'll be bound.
You run your fingers round the bowl and when you're sure it's
cleared,
You tip and pour the water down the hole.
But that master of evasion's sure to be there as you feared,
The dreaded teaspoon at the bottom of the bowl.

When teaspoons were invented they were meant for stirring tea,
And they came with cups and saucers as a rule,
But they are sinister, aggressive and elusive, you'll agree,
And they aim to prove the washer-up a fool.
Though Homo Sapiens may have the very ultimate in brain,
The teaspoon will assume the villains role.
And when you've tipped the water very deftly down the drain,
You'll find him sneering in the bottom of the bowl.

Now my Dad, he's well adjusted, a model I'd have said,
No more level headed father have I known,
He never ever shirks a task or tries to swing the lead,
He's respected and he's seldom heard to moan.
But mention dirty pots to him or sinks or washing up
And he loses every trace of self control,
It's not the dirty dishes make him whimper like a pup,
It's the teaspoon at the bottom of the bowl.

They've produced some super washers so that women's work is
light,
They've eliminated back ache and hard grind,
But machines will not clean meat pots though they wash the whole
darned night,
And with frying pans they're very far behind.
So keep your soggy dish-cloth Mum and keep your wire wool pad,
You'll need them still to scour the casserole,
And forever you are lumbered with the scourge you've always had
That blooming teaspoon at the bottom of the bowl.

Rosa Johnson.