You used to call me Honey

You used to call me dear

Now go and wash your hands

Is all I ever hear

You used to call me darling 

And sometimes Sweetie Pie

Go and wash your hands I’ll 

Hear until the day I die

I don’t ask for much

I don’t have big demands

But I’m sick and tired 

Hearing go and wash your hands

You know I have a request 

In my coffin when I die

Put a box of good cigars

And a fifth of Seagram’s Rye

You won’t honor my wishes

You think I’m one big Dope

Instead you’ll put hand sanitizer

And Anti-bacterial soap

So when I’m up in Heaven

I’ll tell you what I’ll do 

Every day I’ll be looking down

And watching over you

So before you even think about 

Touching those pots and pans

The clouds will part

A voice will shout

Go and wash your hands

© Robert A Evans