Getting Dressed
by Patsy O'Hagan
If there is one thing on earth that makes me depressed
It's sitting and waiting on the wife getting dressed.
I swear to watch her would make you insane
Some of her antics I'll try and explain.
Now we're asked out to this fancy 'do'
And I'm sitting shining from me head to me shoe.
I've shampooed and I've shaved and I've had a wee shower
All done you might say in a third of an hour.
But Maggie, she's different, I'll have you to know,
I can't think of a word that's that's slower than slow.
Now she'll not have a shower in case she might slide,
So the bath is filled and radox applied.
She'll slap and she'll splash, she'll sing and she'll laugh,
You'd swear there was a crocodile let loose in our bath!
She rubs and she scrubs and thon hair she got set,
It's tied back with a scarf in case it gets wet.
Then she dries herself well, with four towels or more,
And the powder she uses is like snow on the floor.
I believe she's a magician, cause from this box with a flap,
OUr Maggie can produce a full chemist's shop!
There's creams and there's lotions, all colours so bright,
And we dainty paint brushes - boy they're a sight!
There's lipstick and polish and bottles of spray,
And wee things to pull out those hairs that turned grey.
And the faces she makes - boys it's a tara!
As she thickly applies that stuff called mascara.
Then the back of her lugs are perfumed and scented,
Back luck to the day that stuff was invented!
How did the old folks do in the days that's gone by,
When there was no such thing as hairspray or dye?
For the price of one of those bottles, I swear there's no doubt,
A man could buy a full case of stout!
Now her makeup is on and she's powdered her nose,
But the worst bit of all is when she's picking her clothes!
There's no saying on earth that I bet will compare
To a woman saying, "I've got nothing to wear!"
In front of the wardrobe she twists and she whinges,
And the bloody thing sitting stuffed to the hinges!
With dresses all sizes and colours so gay,
Some meant for the sunshine or cold winters.
So with one hand on her hinch, and one on her chin,
She examines the contents that's hanging within.
Then the clanging of hangers rings aloud in me head,
As a dozen or so outfits are flung on the bed.
Now I sit and say nothing - for I know that it's best,
I'm sitting ready, she's the one that's not dressed.
In front of the mirror she'll stand and she'll grin,
The first one tried on as she pulls herself in.
She'll pivot, she'll smile, she'll pose and she'll sway,
"That doesn't look right!" as she throws it away.
The next one the same, she tries, then she throws,
Still complaining, "I've no bloody clothes!"
Now I try to ignore her, though she's hard now
to miss,
Then my attention she demands "Do I look alright in this?"
"Oh Maggie it's perfect," is my instant reply,
And may God forgive me if I've told her a lie.
For this waiting and watching would drive you to tears,
I have been watching her antics these twenty odd years.
And the more that I watch, I think she's not wise,
When she's picking her clothes does she not think of her size?
Or maybe it's me, I'm just easy depressed,
Or is this the done thing when any women gets dressed?
She has me all confused I'm in a terrible state,
The 'do' was at nine, it's now ten, and we're late.
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