Who first invented the clothes peg?
Split a twig to go over a line?
The clothes may grow cold and faded and old,
But that peg will keep them all mine. The winds blow from every direction,
Light breezes to full-blooded gales.
Yet firmly they hold, more precious than gold,
The garments, which billow like sails. Each day, when I stand with my basket
To hang all my clothes out to dry,
I think of the rest, who, with similar zest,
Are doing the same thing as I. The rest, who are numbered in millions,
Live in countries located world-wide,
All colours, all creeds, all classes, all needs,
But all need their clothes to be dried!