I go winding cleaners

When they don’t do their job

If I’m not pleased with what they’ve done

I smack them in the gob

 

Now it’s a job that just suits me

A cleaner winder you would be

And a sadist just like me

When I’m winding cleaners

 

I check the glass for greasy smears

Then pull them up by their ears

Sometimes they end up in tears

When I’m winding cleaners

 

In my profession I’ll go far

In fact I’ll never stop

I’ll climb their blinking ladder

And push them off the top

 

The skirting boards must be dust-free

A sticky handle won’t please me

I’m fussy about lavatories

When I’m winding cleaners

 

A feather duster cuts a dash

But use it wisely or, alas,

My knuckle duster’s made of brass

When I’m winding cleaners

 

A fellow said he’d housemaid’s knee

He couldn’t scrub floors properly

I chastised him ruthlessly

When I’m winding cleaners

 

In my profession…

 

                              Kitchen sinks must be pristine

Mirrors must be squeaky clean

Or someone gets a ruptured spleen

When I’m winding cleaners

 

A chamois leather gets things dried

One cleaner used it without pride

I knotted it and tanned his hide

When I’m winding cleaners

 

Window cleaners are the worst

They inspired this dreadful verse

That’s why I sometimes go berserk

Winding window cleaners