The Help! Get a Broom! Rhyme & Audiobook

​​Help! Get a Broom!

A story in the news today

Astounded me in every way.

The headline read, “Help, Get a Broom!

Parents Faint While Entering Room!”

The article reported how

A mum and dad had made a vow:

That while their son was out of school,

And up at Nan’s in Liverpool,

They’d straighten up his room a tad,

Thinking their son’s a tidy lad.

A little cleaning and some dusting,

Organising and adjusting.

They figured it would go quite fast.

But entering, they were...aghast!

It looked as though there’d been a war.

Everything was on the floor!

Every toy and all his clothes.

The more they saw, the more they froze:

A plate of chips and old spaghetti

Under soggy, pink confetti.

Comic books and something slimy.

Something moving! Something – blimey!

Twenty mice begin to scamper!

Bats are sleeping in the hamper!

His pet iguana’s on the loose

Lapping up the apple juice

Dripping off his bedside table!

Mucking out a horse’s stable

Would have been an easier job.

Sonny was a champion slob!

Before the two began to clean,

They both got woozy on the scene.

So feeling faint, if not afraid,

They called a service to their aid. 

One that could arrive with haste,

Handle radioactive waste

And find a home for mice and lizards!

They phoned up “The Cleaning Wizards”.

Rubbish tips don’t ever faze them!

Parents ‘round the world all praise them!

The trio came. They showed no fear.

They wore what looked like scuba gear.

Each held a heavy-duty sack.

They told the parents, “Now stand back,

‘Cos when we clean, we go berserk!”

And then the wizards got to work.

Mouldy socks – incinerated!

Past-due books were confiscated!

Trousers folded, shirts hung up,

Pencils back in pencil cup.

They gave the pet iguana food

(Which put it in a better mood).

They got the mice out of the bed.

The family of bats then fled.

The crumbs were swept, the juice was mopped,

The growing fungus patch was stopped.

The Wizards scrubbed and bagged it all.

Then they hosed down every wall. 

Every surface now was gleaming.

Mum and Dad – they both were beaming.

Bed was made, air was sweet –

It smelled no more like monkey feet.

And that is how the story ended,

Yet I didn’t find it splendid.

“At least,” thought I, on Nan’s guest bed,

“My pet iguana’s getting fed.”

The End