My friend came to visit me with her new baby
And asked would I like one? I smiled and said maybe
But really the creatures are not to my liking
One end’s constant feeding and one’s constant wiping
One end is all scream and the other’s all splatter
Like tumours they grow, getting bigger and fatter
And louder and larger and soon they can talk
You have to talk back to them, then they can walk
You have to walk with them, then they can run
They run away from you, they take all the fun
Out of living the giving you get no thanks for
Then the grieving their leaving begets, what a bore
Are these children, these chilblains, these horrible kids
Who turn all your might-haves into never-dids
Who take all your time and your money as well
Who constantly whine, it was funny as hell
To see my friend croon and moon over the critter
She recently pooped out, the first of a litter
Of many, I thought, as her smiling daft face
Gurned googoo and gaga with all of the grace
Of a loony baboon, a baby-mad momma
Cartoon-y buffoon, and maybe tomorra
I’ll change my opinion but probably not
As I looked at my friend and her child all I got
Was a shivering sense of all she was missing
That quivering mass was all she was kissing
While I get the whole world to choose from and take
Boys, booze and bonbons are mine, that mistake
Is one better left to birds who feel a need
To fetter and cage themselves i.e. to breed
While I with my words will live happy, no baby
With unending turds will tie me down, no maybe
About it, without it I’m glad and I’m glowing
And instead of a child I give birth to this poem.
