Classical Jazz 2005: Home

A Poem on Petey

I once met a couple who had the strange habit of referring to their unborn baby (sex unknown) as "Petey". I wrote this poem in the tradition of the humours poetry my grandfather wrote.

Mother dear, you may doubt my words are my own.
Have you tried lately to get Shakespeare on the phone?
I'm full of good advice, though, and not much shit.
I thought you would benefit from some of it.

I know how you are concerned, I really do;
Now I'll show you what you can look forward to.
Your tummy will expand out and out and out.
You'll be mean and sick until you want to shout.
Your tastes in food will become strange and bizarre;
sending Dad hurtling around town in his car.

Then comes the day of good doctors and nurses,
You'll froth at the mouth and moan evil curses.
You'll push and groan and writhe painfully around,
and that's just to get on your hospital gown.

You'll be put on a table and made quite warm,
while Pop labors over the insurance forms.
Your face will become puffy and your hair wet,
and the real work hasn't even begun yet.
You'll cry, but Dad will stoically understand
when he discovers you are crushing his hand.

Mother Nature will take over, as she should,
Petey will be born: healthy, happy, and good.
You and Pop shall so love the rest of your days
watching little Petey as he grows and plays.

I wish you and Dad the best and all the luck.
But now as I finish, a question has struck.
Don't you think it would be a terrible shame;
to be born a girl with Petey as your name?

May 16, 1997

 

 

 

 

 

it pays the bills dept

here is something I hope is doing no evil.

could be worse dept

there could be more of them