Those Poor Breakdancing Triplets
The birth canal has many locks
And places you can hang your socks
But if it had as many quays
We'd make of them a home for fleas
And on alternate Tuesday nights
Ensnare them with our footloose tights
A fancy frieze on nursery walls
A fitting end for such as these
Across the ruined aqueduct
With trousers into sock-tops tucked
The Midwives stride in stern array
To make it home by break of day
For on alternate Thursday dawns
The Angel comes for all new-borns
Unless, before their stern demands
The mothers tread the threefold way
What dire Obstruction bars their course
With ironing board and clothing horse
And what its purpose? Why these tools?
Have we become a ship for fools?
What dire Obstetric vale of tears
Has caused this glut of tiny biers?
And can cocoons of talc and lint
Mop dry the lachrymosal pools?
Until their sluices overfill
They'll ply their buckets with a willl
Until they go beyond the pail
And see that which makes strong men quail
The dark placenta, moist and rich
Reminding them of matters which
Were once considered quite taboo
And cause the stoutest heart to fail
Envoi
If you'd enjoy your time on Earth
Pray don't obstruct your mother's birth
| Contributors: | Roland, TG. |
| Poem finished: | 10th February 2004 by TG. |