We live in Spain, my love and me
In blessed and blissful harmony
With a small menagerie
We’re broke, but we’re not fussed
We have each other to delight
The sun by day, the stars by night
And just three things the joy to blight
Dog hair, feathers, dust

I fight with bucket, mop and broom
To keep them out of every room
Friends chuckle at me. They assume
That I shall soon adjust
But cleanliness is what I need
And so I pay them little heed
I’m busy with the tumbleweed
Of dog hair, feathers, dust

My love comes whistling through the door
He kisses me, I kiss him more
Then other stuff – you know the score –
We’re overcome with lust
But suddenly my passion’s choked
His isn’t, but then, he’s a bloke
My OCD flares at a stroke
From dog hair, feathers, dust

“But what’s the problem?” he will say
“You cleaned up only yesterday.
It doesn’t matter anyway.”
I know that. But. It’s just
It very slightly bothers me
My pickiness, my OCD
When drifting round the room I see
Dog hair, feathers, dust

But life is great. It’s no big deal
And underneath it all I feel
No longer on the hamster wheel
Of grinding out a crust
I’m free to do what pleases me
Enjoy my life, my family
Indulge in fancy cookery
Or read a book, or learn to ski,
Or take up re-upholstery
Or scuba, darts, or topiary
And maybe pay for somebody
Instead of me, bi-annually
To rid the house, my love and me
Of dog hair, feathers, dust.