I changed it to paint jobs:

Johnson grabs his brush with pride, But colors run and lines collide, Walls look like a wild parade, The world’s worst paint job ever made.

(Verse 2) His son watches, eyes so wide, Learning how not to paint inside, Drips and splatters on the floor, A masterpiece of messy lore.

(Verse 3) One day maybe he’ll get it right, Till then they laugh through every sight, Johnson’s art, a funny crime, A painted tale for all of time.