Salty Sue

“Salty Sue with the OCD Blues”

(To the tune of a bouncy nautical jig)

Well she swabbed them decks and she rang that bell,

Now she’s home rearranging her spice rack hell.

With a mop in one hand and a label gun too,

Don’t touch her coasters—she will cut you.

She cusses like a sailor, sips her tea at four,

Re-folds her socks till her fingers are sore.

She’s got bleach in her purse and a checklist for fun,

And she alphabetized her liquor—rum’s still number one!

Ohhhh Salty Sue, she’s retired and free,

But she’ll scrub your floor while yelling at your tree.

She’s a little bit bonkers, with a side of neat freak,

And she power-walks laps while screaming, “DON’T TOUCH THE STREAK!”

She sets booby traps for misplaced shoes,

Wrote a 10-page rant on crooked shampoo.

Her neighbors all whisper, “That lady’s intense…”

But her hedges are trimmed with military defense.

She’s got medals of honor and a vacuum bazooka,

Throws shade at your dust like it’s enemy bazookas.

Her cat walks in lines, her plants salute,

And her car smells like bleach… with a hint of brute.

Ohhhh Salty Sue, she’s a five-star queen,

With a toilet so clean, it’s a war crime scene.

She’s a little unhinged, but she’s loyal as heck,

Just don’t leave a dish in her sink, by heck!

She’s got flare, she’s got fire, she’s got forty cans of Lysol,

She’ll judge your crumbs like it’s the dang U.S. Capitol.

Don’t call her crazy—well, maybe a smidge,

She ironed her curtains and Windexed the fridge!

Ohhhh Salty Sue, she’s a legend, it’s true,

With her sailor-mouth charm and her cleaning crew.

If she says “aye aye,” then you better obey,

‘Cause she’ll clean up your life—or blow you away!