A poem about washing up that certain folk should understand all too well.... Washing Up for Hobbits The table that was once well set With lots of food for hungry guests Is now a rather messy scene That someone really needs to clean Oh, to the kitchen, who will dare To clean the crockery that's there? For in the sink, and on the racks Are dirty plates in crooked stacks With glasses that once sparkled fine Now painted in a reddish grime And cast about for all to see Is ever un-washed cutlery The pots and pans are piling up Along with mugs and coffee cups And knives and forks and silver spoons Retain the stains of long gone food No longer are they clean and plush They're strangers to the scrubbing brush So, who will wash away the stains? And who will make them shine again? They really will not wash themselves Or place themselves upon the shelves You can't eat food off grubby plates No longer can these dishes wait So roll those sleeves and fill the tub And give those plates a mighty scrub And wash until your arms are sore We must fulfil this washing chore For washing-up's the price we pay For all the food we eat each day!