Cleanliness

I cannot speak to Godliness, as
It’s never been my bailiwick.
If holy scripture was my sea
I’d wind up floating like a brick.

But cleanliness is something that,
As age advances, I embrace with
Open visage as a sign of
Elegance and humble grace.

The great unwashed may have their reasons,
Muck and mud may have a season, but
It seems barely short of treason
With soap and water near at hand.

Stop the crying, no more sighing,
Doesn’t take a lot of trying.
There is simply no denying,
No way to misunderstand.

Nasty has a time and place.
Grungy has its hour,
But when the dirty work is done
Be kind enough to bathe or shower.

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