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.