There are no sheets in hell

I wish that every woman had the time

To put the washing out and make a rhyme

I wish that men could enjoy changing sheets

The strong and muscular all  fear defeat.

They tremble by the bed, their eyes go blurred.

Then they will pretend they do not care.

This is women’s work we are too weak

Men are not designed to deal with sheets.

The flat ones are not too bad to keep in place

But  the fitted bottom sheets make red my face.

They can pull the beer in barrels strong

But they can’t pull a sheet, there’s something wrong

Never mind there are no sheets in hell

But as your mother told you show don’t tell,