Symptoms

If your wife is growing restless, if she tentatively tugs
At the dingy window curtains; if she studies all the rugs;
If she talks about wall paper, if she views the window panes
With an eye that sees them tarnished by a lot of streaks and stains,
Then you may as well be patient and as quiet as a mouse,
For no feeble man can stop her –
she will
soon
clean
house.

You had better plan for boarding somewhere else a day or two,
For the changes are she’ll start it with a rustling, bustling crew
Of scrub women and of dusters, and the chairs will block the hall
And a lot of dainty china will be put where it will fall –
And an aproned, towsled, draggled sight will say she is your spouse
For the signs of spring are potent –
she will
soon
clean
house.

You will eat upon the ice box, you will sleep upon the stove,
You will slip upon a box of soap and down the stairs will rove;
You will find your valued volumes mixed with kitchen pans and pots;
For the time you’ll be an alien – you and all your little tots –
And there’ll be a time of trouble, time of shake, and dust, and douse,
Till the fever has subsided – she will
soon
clean
house.

-W.D. Nesbitt