Ode to Mary Louise, My Washing Machine

Oh, sweet washing machine of mine
Thou steady swishing sound
Can bring my soul at ease
And soothe the most colicky of babies.
Thou have a sense of fashion
When thou rip and tear my jeans
My red and white spotted pjs
And when my boyfriend's
Too white boxers
So artfully turn pink.
We bow to thee, oh, wiser one
And wear them in all sanctity.