A poem about a baby wipe
It’s sad but also true
For when done with mopping baby things
Its flushed right down the loo
“Its gone” the owners cry with glee
As it spins around the pan
The pack said it is flushable
Now isn’t that just grand
But with regret this isn’t true
Well some it is, but not
Flushable may say the pack
But it takes some time to rot
So it sits there in the sewer well
Catching more than you dare think
What else goes down your toilet bowl?
And the kitchen sink?
The wipe it grows, it clogs right up
With everything it binds
A big old snag the sewer has
Now nothing will pass by
So the lesson here is nice and simple
You must bag your baby wipe!
Please don’t flush that mucky rag
Make sure you bin at night.
Link – can a wet wipe pull and aeroplane? Check this out – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGq4QJfWvxY&noredirect=1