When I got married long ago and promised to be a good wife,
The marriage vows didn't mention a word about sweeping crumbs for life.
So when the children came along and the crumbs got deeper and deeper,
It took a while but finally sank in that "I" was official crumb sweeper.

I learned one thing as I swept those crumbs each day so diligently,
That each of these little buggers has its own personality.
Some are really lazy louts that lay right where they fall,
But the ones that like to roam around are the testiest of all.

They shoot out beneath the cabinets and under the pedestals,
And trying to reach them with a broom becomes a war of wills.
Cookie crumbs with peanuts can deal some lethal blows,
Especially if you're barefoot and step on them with your toes.

I must confess I didn't cry when our last kid left the nest,
For now I could exit "Crumbville" and get some needed rest.
But just as I was settling in, the grandkids came on the scene,
And all the crumbs were back again, multiplied by thirteen.

In a nightmare the other night, I was called to the Heavenly Gate,
And as I stood there trembling, waiting to hear my fate,
St. Peter appeared and asked me if I brought along my broom,
Then he sealed my fate by sending me to the children's dining room.