Who loves to clean and bring the foam?
Baby it's the Dishwasher Man.
Who loves the suds and loves to rub?
Baby, it's the Dishwasher Man.

He can clean a plate, he can clean a pot.
He's on cloud nine, when he cleans a lot.
Something keeps him going, every single day.
When he finds another dish to spray.

Night after Night, who makes them bright.
Baby, it's the Dishwasher Man.
Who lets the water flow. You know.
Baby, it's the Dishwasher Man.

Then he scrubs them down, so he'll see his face.
And you think they'll shine, cause there's not a trace.
Sink it keeps on dripping, when he's feet away.
Searching for Pine Sol today.

Then he glistens up the putrid smells of food that's sat too long.
He wants to get the squeegee out and bleach it till' it's strong.
Then he finds a bunch of dishes and some racks he starts to load.
And let'em foam.

He can clean the chrome, he can clean a pan.
He will scrub it down, like no other can.

Something keeps him moving, and no one see's him sigh.
He's washed them all, so now he dries.

Then the grime is getting thicker and the baking sheet is grim.
The soap is in the water and the towels are wearing thin.
But he never seems to notice, he's just got to find
another plate to spray.

Anyway got to spray.
Anyway got to spray.