Jamie Perkins, just turned
thirty,
With his wife can get quite
flirty,
Now the dad of five great
kids
They’re just about to make
it six.
Five little children under
nine
And now another, well
that’s just fine,
But all the five are sweet
little girls,
With auburn hair or bright
red curls,
None are keen on football
matches
Or watching clever rugby
catches,
This time he’d like to
have a boy,
A son would bring our James
great joy,
He’s read the books
and done his stuff
Now surely that should be
enough
To make the y’s and
x’s balance,
And make a son with sporting
talents.
Maggie Perkins, now in
labour,
Doesn’t let her preference
waver,
Glad she’ll be with
any child
However sweet, however wild,
But, she thinks, it would be
good
To have a son, if now they
could,
And so she’s also read
the books
Genes for height, and genes
for looks,
And chromosomes to make a son
And followed all that can be
done,
And so the moment has arrived,
The time for which they both
have strived,
A wriggling baby soon appears
And it’s a boy, at
last, three cheers!
