What a shame I’ m not good at making my bed
Or washing the dinner dishes.
What a pity I’ m awful at broccoli-eating
And feeding my sister's fishes.
So sad I’ ve no talent for cleaning my room,
All those jobs — it’ s so hard to get through them.
(If I tell you I’ m no good at those kinds of things,
Maybe then you won’ t ask me to do them.)