My Boy Mort

© 1997 Barry A. Warsaw

Mort’s due date is past, my boy’s running late
He’s busy in there, there’s a lot on his plate
Perhaps he’s aware of his tired parents’ fate
Or maybe he’s tasting the meatballs Mom ate

We’re anxious to start the new life Morty brings
And learn how to wipe all his drippy new things
We’ll coax smiles from his eyes as his mom and I sing
And we’ll laugh as he squeals during ceiling high flings!

We tried Indian food, we tried the Chinese.
We tried to beg, plead, cajole, tempt, offer, tease,
We even tried yelping and forcing a sneeze!
We tried bumpy roads, Mort please come out, please!

My boy isn’t dumb, he knows what he’s got
It’s perfect in there, not too cold, not too hot
There’s no mean old dad putting him on the spot
And making him mow the lawn, like it or not!

So I’ll let him relax now, I’ll give him a break
He’ll arrive soon enough, naked, cold and awake
And with the first large lungs of breath he will take
A wail he’ll produce and the windows will shake

We’ll love him a lot, all his fingers and toes
From his diaper rash butt, to his snot crusted nose
We’ll cheer all his victories and comfort his woes
And our hanky will close on his nose when he blows

So Mort all is cool, everythings A-OK
You’ll slide into this world, very soon, any day
Take the time that you need, we will do it your way
“Have a safe, happy journey” is all I can say!