Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
When from the washer we retrieve,
A mass of bra straps we believe,
Will never come undone.
It’s push and pull and in and out,
Your sanity is now in doubt,
From deep inside a mournful shout,
“Why won’t you come undone?!”
The hardest puzzle known to man,
Is this conundrum in your hand,
Of nylon and elastic band,
That just won’t come undone.
There must be half a dozen here,
As segments show then disappear.
Unwinding them it seems quite clear,
It should just come undone.
You stop and then you start again,
It just can’t be that hard—and then—
A knot comes loose and that is when,
It might just come undone.
For help divine you say a prayer,
To part you from this underwear,
Then in the depths of your despair,
“Thank God, it came undone!”
You pump your fist and raise your hand,
Your quarry flutters to the sand,
Sweet victory was right in hand,
But now must be redone.
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