Getting dressed - Patsy O Hagan

If there’s wan thing on earth that makes me depressed,

It’s sitting waiting on the wife getting dressed.

I swear till watch her would make you insane.

Some of he antics I’ll try and explain

Now we’re asked out till this fancy ‘do’,

And I’m sitting shining from my head till my shoe.

I’ve shampooed and I’ve shaved and 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 slower than slow.

She won’t have a shower in case she might slide,

So the bath is filled up and Radox applied.

She slaps and she splashes and she sings and she laughs

You’d swear there was a crocodile let loose in our bath.

She rubs and she scrubs and her hair she got set

Is tied back with a scarf in case it gets wet.

Then she dries herself with four towels or more

And the powder she uses is like snow on the floor.

I believe she’s a magician, because from her wee bag with a flap

Our Maggie can produce a full chemist’s shop.

There’s creams and there’s lotions and colours so bright

And wee dainty paint brushes, boys it’s a sight.

There’s lipstick and polish and bottles of spray

And wee things to pull out those hairs that turn grey

Now her make up is on and she’s powdered her nose,

But the worst bit of all is when she’s choosing her clothes

There’s no saying on earth I bet will compare

As a woman complaining that she’s got nothing to wear.

.

Now in front of the wardrobe she laments and she whinges

And the bloody thing is stuffed to the hinges,

With dresses all sizes and colours so gay

Some meant for the sunshine or a cold winters day

So with wan hand on her hinch and wan on her chin

She examines the contents that’s hanging within.

Then the clanging of hangers rings loud in my head

As a dozen or so outfits are flung on the bed.

I just sit and say nothing for I know that is best.

I’m sitting ready, she’s the wan that’s not dressed.

Now in front of the mirror she’ll stand and she’ll grin

The first wan 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 wan’s the same she tries then she throws

Still complaining ‘I’ve got no bloody clothes’

By now I’m convinced our Maggie’s not wise,

When she’s picking her clothes does she not think of her size

I sit and say nothing, not wan word have I said

As another dress is flung on the bed

It’s maybe just me I’m easy depressed

Or is this the done thing when a woman 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