A spinning, cleansing song;
All about the women call
Their gossip through the throng.
Machines they hum their happy notes,
A tandem, buzzing choir;
The washers chatter through long days,
Shouting life’s raucous fire.
Oh, the din in the laundromat
Is filled with voice and gears,
A happy sound that’s much the same
As in those bygone years.