Ode to the Wishy-Washy Washer Woman

Come clean, now, washer woman
Elbows-down in suds
How much of the past can you scrub away
While you think about tomorrow?

Dreaming of time spent,
Longing for love lost,
Hoping to be rescued while
Turning to a prune.

There's always more to do
The pile won't stop growing
It doesn't matter how fast you move
You'll never be done.

It's up to you to drop the rag,
No one's going to pull you
From the tub
You've got to walk away.