In Wigan town, in Compton Street
The patter made by tiny feet
Had blessed each occupant in turn,
With only two to cause concern
Miss Pattie Jones, and boyfriend Ben
(That Yuppie pair at number ten)
Had waited SO LONG for the stork
That neighbours had begun to talk
One fateful day Miss Jones declared
“NO MORE maternally impaired!”
And spent the morning being sick
And testing urine with a stick
Once done, she cried, “it’s turning blue”,
I’m up the spout – about time too!”
Ms Jones forthwith kicked drugs and booze
Told the neighborhood her news
And, as soon as she had viewed the scan
Gestation for Miss Jones began
As weeks went by, her symptoms changed
She first grew placid, then deranged
The strangest food would pass her lips
To form perhaps child-bearing hips
In weight, in size, Miss Jones increased
This was the nurture of the beast
She next moved to the heartburn stage
Which only ice-cream could assuage
She asked, “can this – impending motherhood,
So adversely affect one’s mood?”
“Oh yes”, friends cried, “completely normal
To act psychotic, mad, hormonal!
Just wait until your last few weeks
Insomnia, hiccups, awkward leaks!”
‘Friends’ gleefully spelled out her fate
While Miss Jones, anxious, ate and ate!
And so she reached the final stage
When all her organs (plus ribcage)
Had moved aside to make more room
For Junior, inside her womb
By now she looked a sorry sight
Who’d grown in every way, but height
With bloated body, aching back
Ms Jones could only snooze and snack
So when her due date loomed at last
This mum-to-be was simply VAST!
The next day when Ms Jones awoke
As if on cue, her water broke
“TODAY!” she gushed, triumphantly
“TODAY MY INNER CHILD BREAKS FREE!!”
But at the actual time of birth
The stork could hardly lift from earth
And neighbours joked with mild distain
“T’was less a stork, and more a crane”
So if you’re passing Wigan town
By air, and happen to look down
You’ll spot a HUGE pram far below
And a figure pacing to and fro
A figure with loose flaps of skin
Desperate to look lithe and thin
But ‘Junior’ has no such aims
As his hunger to Ms Jones proclaims
Proud mum peers in the pram with pride,
…Smiles at the behemoth babe inside
But, staring back the giant head,
Just screams and screams until it’s fed…
Helga Hewston 2013
