Scrubbing slowly circles round till the middle when she goes to town Suds on table, suds on nails Some get soap suds in the hair Three years old and dampening her sponge, this ol' table's getting washed again Once, twice, a bundle of times, now she's following her inner guide Sing to her, call to her, now I dare So deep in work, she won't know you're there Damp, sudsy, damp, dry a montage plays before my eyes What's this? A break? She hangs her towel. Refreshed, relaxed, just look at this child!
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