GHave you ever passed a Dpumpkin in theG morning, in theC stillness of some dimly lit BathG room?
If youC have you’ll know the awful disaGppointment when you find its nothing like you would Dassume.
GHave you ever passed aD pumpkin in theG morning? I can Ctell you here and now that its noG fun
If you’ve Cnever, then you’ll never know the Gfeeling that my wife had giving Dbirth to our young Gson.
CIf you have, you’ll know the Gfear and appre Chension, the Fforlorn wistful hope and all thatC too
When theFbutternut for which you had beenC hoping, turns out to be a bloody Queensland Gblue.
You will Cknow the trembling Gterror and the Cpain, Fincredulous dismay and Cdisbelief
As the Fmedico inserts the final Cstitches, you’ll swoon and know the Gmeaning of Crelief.
GAll the training, the deep Dbreathing and Ginstructions C how to push and never to Gdespair
Are all Cgone as you yell and curse and Gswear at the rotten swine who planted it Dthere.
You may Gnever in yourD life again eat Gpumpkin. Just toC look at one will bring tears to your Geyes
On the Cother hand your wife’s sad shy Greluctance in bed should really Dcause you no Gsurprise.
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This Poems Story
Many women have told me that childbirth is equivalent to a man passing a pumpkin or a bowling ball. I put this one to music with the guitar chords recorded (in red on my computer but a bit confusingly in black here)