Ode to the Painting Crew

(Author’s Note:  There has been some commentation about the status of painters’ lower appendages.  Be it known that at all times and in all situations, all painters appear clad in white painters’ pants.)

Their legs are always with us,

No matter where we turn.

Their ladders clink, their scrapers grate,

Their sanders buzz and whirr.


Their legs are always with us,

Ascending, standing, bent.

All paint-bespattered, flexed to ladders,

Filling one more dent.


Their legs are always with us,

Two weeks now, maybe more,

From every window, all we see is

Painters by the score.


Well, maybe it’s not twenty.

Most days it’s four to ten,

But all the house is covered now

With men like bees, and when. . .


They ask us lots of questions,

Or show us what they’ve done,

They’re all polite and eager

And really having fun.


Their legs are always with us,

Plus vehicles galore:

A car, two vans, a bucket truck,

And some days even more.


The crew chief is a guy named Shawn.

The rest we only know

As Bearded Wonder, Tattoo Man,

And other names, and so. . .


We greet them kindly every day

And thank them for their work.

We growing rather fond of them;

Not one of them’s a jerk.


There’ve been a lot of challenges,

Some odd, some happenstance.

Their chainsaw broke, our colors changed,

The smokehouse did a dance.


It’s after three o’clock right now.

Today their work is done.

They’ve packed things up and left the scene.

It’s silent!  Oh, how fun.


The walls are Cottage Cream, you see.

The trim? Toque White’s appearing.

The ceiling of the porch is pure

Sky-blue, called Atmospheric!


Our privacy is mainly shot.

Today while sorting files,

The bucket truck rose past Scott’s desk,

“The Beard” all waves and smiles!


They come each weekday morning

At six and thirty-nine.

Good thing I’m up and dressed and out

And walking down the line.


They’re all so nice and friendly

And courteous as can be.

They all work hard with excellence

And deal respectfully.


We know that they’re all working;

Not really peering in,

But I feel odd sometimes at home

Just doing life, but then. . .


I guess I’ll miss them when they’re gone,

When everything looks great,

When we’re all proud and happy that

Our house appears first-rate.


For now, not any window’s “safe.”

Where can we go to hide?

Their legs are always with us

From dawn till eventide.


2 Responses to “Ode to the Painting Crew”

  1. 1 ryndvdbrwn October 20, 2012 at 9:53 am

    Painting is pretty awesome 😀 They get to use a chainsaw?! I never got to use one of those when I painted…

  2. 2 hab318 October 20, 2012 at 5:23 pm

    This is pretty wonderful. Mom, I want to see pictures! =)

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