Preggo I Am

(with apologies to Dr. Seuss)

I am preggo.  Preggo I am.

But where will you give birth, ma’am?

Will you do so in a pool?

I’d fall upon my head, you fool.

Will you do so in a bed?

This discussion makes my face turn red.

Will you birth upon a ball?

I do not like that thought at all.

Will you push upon a chair?

I think that would attract some stares.

Perhaps a birth done in your home?

I refuse to clean that mess alone.

Will you let them slice your belly?

Who is this doctor?  Machiavelli?

We could have you hypnotized.

If it fails, then I’ll be traumatized.

I refuse to do it in a car,

and so I will not travel far.

I’ll not deliver in a boat –

I look a whale but will not float.

I will not push upon a plane –

the pilot might think it profane.

I will not give birth at the mall.

The cops would not like that at all.

So give me all the drugs you can,

and I’ll be your devoted fan.

I do not wish to scream and shout.

I do not want to flail about.

Preggo I am, and so I pout –.

I hope the child just falls out.

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