The sink full of dishes is smelling quite strange
The mountain of laundry’s turned into a range
There’s dust on the mantle and toys on the floor
I’ve never seen so many cobwebs before

But here is my bucket and here is my mop
My hair is tied into a bun way up top
I’ve rolled up my sleeves, donned my pink rubber gloves
I’ve turned up the songs I especially love

I’ll brave that odd smell; I won’t shrink from the stains
I’ll climb every inch of that whole mountain range
I’ll battle the dust, whip the toys into shape
I’ll hunt down web-makers; not one will escape

For as much as we’d like all of life to be play
There’s a battle that has to be fought every day
The most common of lives still takes courage and grit
But we’re happier, far happier, when we don’t quit