For lack of appreciation.

What would happen if I went on strike?

Just took off and rode my bike.

Who would be there to clean the house?

Certainly not my wonderful spouse.


Then there’d be laundry and dishes to do

Then I wouldn’t hear “well what about you”.

Who would cook and how would you eat

If I wasn’t there to fix it nice and neat.


Who would change your soiled sheets?

Or do you think this is some magical feat.

Who would send the occasional card?

Or maybe you find this much too hard.


Who would remind you to take out the trash?

Oh, I’m sorry this is much too brash.

What about vacuuming and washing the floor

Oh how terrible of a chore.


And who would be there to hold you tight

And snuggle up in the cold of night.

And who would love you like I do

And say it’s all right when feeling blue.


Well maybe I should go on strike

Take off and just ride my bike.

Then maybe someone might notice me

If I wasn’t there often enough to see.