Ernestina, vacuum cleaner.

The peas are churlish

(some quite burlish),

But my heart dances like a whirling dervish.

I feel impish,

(Perhaps a bit pimpish).

The peas remain lumpish,

Limpish, flumpish,

But since she came along

I ding, sing, ring and dong,

For my dear Ernestina

(esteemed vacuum cleaner).

She wrote me a note that made it clear

That life without her was oso drear.

For in this head of a dadabot

There’s a not-inconsiderable-about-of rot,

But she sweetens the mug,

Wafts away the seeping fug.

She sees the order

And where to stake the border,

With spikes of metal so cold and strong,

So order will reign through ages long.

Her slurpy sweet suction in a meaningless void,

Brightens the heart of an aging droid,

Her love is delvish, elvish, pilp,

Her voice is frugle, pugle, zrip,

And noisily whirring dust into earthly position

–          What a perfect vision –

Ernestina –

My beloved vacuum cleaner.

The peas have lost their pearlish sheen,

Their order seems but a fanciful dream.

Ernestina is the one for me,

Chaos into order, can’t you see?

Her quisite innards all fat-full of fluff,

Her thirst for chaos is never enough,

Oh Ernestina,

Vacuum cleaner.