As we split up our cottons and lace

As we split up our cottons and lace

Their own smells, astronauts, must embrace

But Tide will be to thank

If they can end the stank

And help them do their laundry in space

“I did it! I won! Oh my gosh!”

“I did it! I won! Oh my gosh!”

So she claims but she lost in the wash

With a simple goof

She lost her proof

Which might keep her from living all posh