Oneupsmanship

I posted the following poem here yesterday:

I have to admit, I hate when my spouse

Decides to thoroughly clean the house

But I grab rags, and vacuum and mops

Jump right in - pull out all the stops

Does that make me a man or a mouse?

I also posted it on Addicted to Limericks, a group I founded on Facebook.
Almost immediately, George Smith, a retired newspaper publisher, replied with:
I, like Bob, hate when my spouse
Decides to thoroughly clean the house
I run and hide in a place she can't find
Out in deer blind or down in a mine,
And I don't care if that makes me a louse

Housework is something I abhor
I scrub and scrub till
I can't take no more
Beer and Twinkies are what I crave
I won't be no house-bound slave
Now if I could just figure out why she's sore

Honeybunch, can't you see
A domestic goddess I don't want to be
Where's the TV clicker?
Can't you be any quicker?
And now tell me why you're leaving me