ahh, the humour of the brits

Childbirth Song

You've bags under your eyes
You've got boobs to your knees
Your hand's full of poo and your bra's full of cheese
Your stomach is bloated your clothes do not fit
He still wants sex while you feel like shit
He begs for this favour not long after labour
It's like eating a meal after you've just been sick

And the boys at the office tell him I should give him what he wants
To this I say that they're a bunch of lalalalalalala

You bastard you cocked up it's you got me knocked up
Just cos you want me to have bigger tits
You're pleading, you're pining
Oh please stop your whining
You're not getting sex 'til the kid's 26

You say you want another child, another pregnancy
When you can poo a watermelon I'll agree

I could have been someone if you just hadn't come (along)
If I hadn't been so drunk and I'd said maybe
We'd be going out and stuff, now there's foreceps up my chuff
Pulling the head of a screaming 10lb baby

And the mums on Hornby Island* say keep breast feeding 'til they're four
If I do I won't have nipples anymore

And all the doctors told me that I'd need a stitch or ten
I say sew me up so I can't do this again.