An ode to my bedder

Sweet bedder who doth my bin always empty

And my bathroom replenish with loo roll aplenty,

You bring hygiene and cleanliness into my flat

And on top of that you’ve got proper good chat.

Each Tuesday morn when you come a calling

There you find me on my warm bed a sprawling,

And thou art considerate, thou returns later on

When thou knows that I am to my lecture agone.

Oh sweet bedder who hoovers my floor

When I hear your sweet knock on my old bedroom door,

I am filled with excitement, filled with delight

That a clean, grime-free shower will soon be in sight.

When the rubbish piles up and the bin o’erflows

I know thou wilt help, thou and I are like bros,

Thou removeths the bag and leaves more (just in case)

And thou does this grim task with such posture and grace.

Sweet bedder without thee my room would be repulsive

As in affairs of cleanliness I am not so compulsive,

Mould and mildew would doubtless consume my damp walls

And illness come over me as Easter term falls.

Each Tuesday and Thursday thou comes without fail

And for thee what commitment this role doth entail,

Friends may come and go, like the changing of seasons

But a bedder is forever for infinite reasons.