a poem not written by Lewis Carroll
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the laundry pile, my son!
The crusted shirts, the smells that haunt!
Beware the backpack filled with clothes
From last week’s camping jaunt!”
He put the rubber gloves on hands,
Long time a fail-proof plan he sought –
So rested he by the Soap-Soap machine,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
He high upon the shelf did spy,
An answer to his mournful prayer:
An air mask there did lie.
Lickety-split he climbed, the boon to fetch.
He donned the mask deliberately.
Then set he to the task at hand,
And cleaned triumphantly.
“And hast thou done the wash, my son?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
She chortled in her joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
a stuff and nonsense poem, especially the part about my son doing laundry
Reit This Way 
As a veteran of Boy Scout Laundry myself, I LOVE THIS!!!! My advice to you: spread a sheet in the backyard and sort the laundry outside. Gives the critters a chance to escape.
Brilliant! We had to perform this poem in drama in Jr. High, and every once in awhile ever since I'll get it stuck in my head.
And Barb? Critters? In laundry? *shiver* Maybe we'll pass on the Boy Scouts stuff… (kidding, but still…)
Love it! Must send to my sister who has to do fish and hunt laundry all the time!