Washing day poetry

Monday laundry day bad poetry.

There once was a washing machine
That made all the clothes very clean.
"Please stop me!" it cried
As it tumbled and dried;
"This sock has made everything green."
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Today I must wash
Tvättrum is too far away
Need to use the lift.
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Lots of clothes
Awaiting in the pile.
Unless I get them clean,
Nobody can get dressed.
Dirty clothes will smell,
Red t-shirts and
Yellow socks.
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I wish someone would invent
A machine that folds and puts away.
Something I could rent
To save me time on laundry day.
Such a device would be heaven sent
And lots of money would I pay.