I've got to tile the ocean floor
And paint the heavenly ceiling
Which God had done in just six days
Then sat and drank darjeeling
And then I've got to feed a mass
With one small set of dishes
And seven small brown hovis loaves
Two cans of tuna fishes
And then I've got to bathe our kids
Cook, clean and be physician
To you and all our bloody brood
You think I'm a magician
I decorate and go to work
To clothe our sons and daughter
And while you drown in vats of ale
I have to walk on water
I've never asked you Simon dear
To cast for scores of fishes
But could you, maybe once of twice
Just wash the f****n dishes