A right-leaning disgruntled Republican comments on the news of the day and any other thing he damn-well pleases.
by Ouida Williams 
I don’t know why anyone should care if I don’t fold my underwear.
Now I’ll roll up my socks
And put ‘em in a box
But I’m not gonna fold my underwear.
Now you really don’t have to make you bed,
Just plump up the pillows
And spread up the spread
Yon really don’t have to make up your bed.
You really don’t have to dust every day,
Just pick up the papers
And put things away.
You really don’t have to dust every day.
Now I’ll put up the dishes and take out the trash
And sweep the kitchen
But here’s a flash
I’m not gonna fold my underwear.
And I’ll put up the pans and stack up the lids
The way Momma taught us
When we were just kids
But Mama’s not here and I just don’t care.
And I’m not gonna fold my underwear.
Ouida Williams is my mother. This poem was published in New Millennium Writings, a literary journal edited by my brother Don Williams.
Posts
