Bath

When I wake up early in the morning to a particularly beautiful day
I first tip my hat to the sunrise
In a reverent, metaforical way
I find my way to the bedroom chair where my pair of breeches lay
I'll haul my legs into it's legs
With minimum delay
Then I tippy-toe into the living room
Cause I wouldn't want to stirr the crowd
Oh, it's not that what I am about to Do is forbidden or not allowed
But the ritual requires solitude
And a sober quiet disposition
I sternly step through the garden door: resolutely, a man with a mission!
I walk along the flower-beds
Admire their colors and shapes
Past the birch and the old oak tree
Past the lush Wistaria drapes
At the end of the garden a privet-hedge with a carefully hidden hole
I feel so whole once through the hedge: A schoolboy on parole
My inner sanctum is a bed of spinach leaf tastefully sprinkled with morning dew
Get on my knees and whisper "I believe the power of spinach will see me through"
I carefully pick a handfull of leaves Take care not to damage the plants
Only the young and the juicy ones will end up in my hands
I squeeze till I feel the fibers break, till the juice is breaking free
I rub my face, my arms, my legs and the naughty bits inbetween
I return to the house in a triumphant mood
Invulnerable and green like the hulk
I'm ready to face the stress of the day, there is nothing to make me skulk
The breakfast table is all set up and my wife lies on the lurch
When she asks me where I've been I say Can't you see I've been to church
My inner sanctum is a bed of spinach leaf tastefully sprinkled with morning dew
Get on my knees and whisper
"I believe!
The power of spinach will see me through"