A Pram

By John Aldred

She trundles down the road, a pram
And round the babe her parcels cram,
Did she but know nine months before
When she laid down on carpet floor
And gladly took the penetrating ram
That she would trundle down the road, a pram.

Her young and willing limbs that push
That pram besides the paving bush
Will doubtless lay that body prone
When Daddy says he's rigid grown
She trundles down the road, a pram
A young and lovely, double mam.

The sprightly gait is now a trudge
Within her heart there lies a grudge
Against the sequence of events.
Why should the use of loves contents
Result in prams that scarcely budge
And writs to set before a county judge.

She trundles down the road, a pram
And from a bottle nips a dram
She damns the times her hormones ran
And bent her body to a worthless man
Whose actions filled the trundling pram
And no one gives a bloody damn.

Copyright 1999 John Aldred