My mother has a “Surger,” with lots of bobbins on it.

It sits there slyly smiling in the bedroom down the hall.

But I know it can be wicked, as it looks just like a spider,

with it’s arms and legs all waiting for that moment to explore.

I’ve a funny sort of feeling it could serge me to the ceiling

or perhaps it sits there waiting to surge across the floor.

So never leave it running, when you have to do the shopping,

or you’ll find it has been busy while you’ve been at the store.

For it will serge around the telly, and over Teddies belly

or round the kitchen cabinets, where the cookies try to hide.

And it will serge across the windows and the Heatalator fireplace.

So on returning from your shopping you can’t enter by the door.

‘Cos the surger has been surging and the house is firmly tangled

in a web of colored sewing threads that are blowing in the wind.

And until the thread is finished it will just go on a surging,

which will make it very difficult to get inside once more.

So never touch the bobbins or play with any buttons

or those tempting little levers, that sparkle in the sun.

But most of all remember that a surger can be cunning.

So never leave it running, if it turns on, on its own.

And however much your toes itch to press upon the foot switch.

Never ever let them touch that peddle on the floor.

 

 

David Garlick, Victoria, April, 1990