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Kate Rancid

Mrs Braithwaite

Mrs Braithwaite

I have a little woman
And she visits twice a week
To clear away the rubbish
And prevent a nasty reek.
She brings along her hoover,
Her polish, pail and brush,
And brightly sets about her task
Of clearing out my bush.

She's always got some gossip,
She's cheap and half the price.
I wish I could afford her
Every day 'cause she's so nice.
She wears a little apron
And ties it round her front,
And swiftly disappears
Inside the caverns of my cunt.

She stays up there for hours,
She takes pride in her work.
It's really all quite painless,
I just feel the odd swift jerk.
The buzzing of her vacuum
On my life does not impinge.
I give a little whistle so
Folks can't hear her up my minge.

She often comes out filthy,
All drenched with sweat and slime,
And occasionally scarlet,
If it's my Dirty Time.
She never misses corners,
She's in every nook and cranny,
From the contours of my cervix
To the fish flaps round my fanny.

Yes I have a little woman,
Mrs Braithwaite is her name.
I pay her twenty quid a week,
And cleaning is her game.
She's so very good at scrubbing,
She deserves a special badge.
My little cleaning woman.
Who cleans out my rotten fadge.

Kate Rancid (b. 1973)