Harken all ye whose towlings doth offend thy nose and make thy laundress' eye pour forth much tears. If thou dost lend your ear, I will tell my tale of how I rid these objects of their vile stench and made them spread a scent far more sweet and pleasing to inhale.
Two times I washed those yards of cloth, though 'tis true was vainly done, for no sooner was the portal to that wonder of machines unlatched than did I gag and weep because of the odoriferous smell. Fie! Fie on the rootlings seeking water in my pipes that caused such foulness into my home to seep!
To wash or not to wash, that is the question. Whether tis nobler to throw these objects on the dust pile or to continue in my weary task, that is what I had to ponder. Oh that this too too sullied cloth would clean.
Do not despair for hope was not completely disappeared. In my sleeve I had yet one more trick which boldened me to test my luck anon. 'Tis time, 'tis time! In the bleach and soda throw. Double, double, toil and trouble, tumbler turn, detergent bubble. Where two raging fires, bleach and soda, meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.
The ringing tone which signals all is done did ring and into the breach did I throw my hope. Would that scent of sewer fine'ly be no more? Ah, yes, the smell is sweet, with lingering memories of summer pools for swimming. 'Tis only needs the drying and the folding and all will be as twas before the ill-met eve of sewage.
(Happy birthday, William Shakespeare)