An ode to my bedder
The actual love of my life
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.