Oh Singer, My Singer
Why have I neglected you so?
Yet when push comes to shove
You stumble through a project like a pro.
Dust collects on your outer caseWhich somehow manages to find
Itself in every crevice and hole
Including the bobbin wind.
How I adore the fact you haveSo many accessories from which to choose
From special feet to special stitch discs
All there for one to casually peruse.
Yes I need to hold down the bobbinWhile winding and I regret when not doing so
And when I sometimes forget to do it
You never fail to let me know.
Catch and pull and loud you areBut in the end, you barely miss a stitch
And sometimes you over-sew the same spot
Which ripping is quite the little bitch.
Perhaps what you really need is oilWe all need lubed sometimes
I forget the last time I had you serviced
But long enough to be a crime.
Yet there you sit on your table of woodGleaming in oyster enameled metal
Awaiting the next time your needle
Will penetrate fabrics with petals.
Oh Singer, My SingerForgive me of my neglectful ways
I promise to soon start using you again
To finish the Fall Quilt before rainy days.