In the corner of the kitchen
A black and bulky object sat -
Dusting, when the living-room was clear,
Gave a form of satisfaction.
Then we stopped, and it was said
We'd have to give it away.
The vacuum-cleaner was a guzzler.
It guzzled electricity.
It guzzled dust. It tried to guzzle my cat.
To give it away was something
Like giving away a child.
So we cleaned a cupboard with the vacuum -
We pushed our noses into rugs -
We gave it every chance to prove itself,
Until at last there came a day
When I hauled it out to give away
To a niece I've never seen.
And as the thing lay on the hall
With a broken wheel and a bent hose,
I saw a flash of movement
And heard a fan-belt flapping.