Pregnant near Christmas…
What a f@*king shit.
No boozy parties, just excessive amounts of smarties,
While only your dressing gown will fit.
Pregnant at Christmas…
What a bastard arse.
Just half a glass of champers, while you re-arrange the pampers,
Your glam factor just dropped by half.
Pregnant for Christmas…
What a twatty plan.
Everyone else is up to sunrise, while you’re comatose via mince-pies,
Adding to your already impressive span.
Pregnant this Christmas…
What a stupid idea.
Sod the festive magic, while I’m feeling this tragic,
F@*k Band Aid, f@*k Elf on the Shelf, f@*k Reindeer.
Pregnant over Christmas…
I’m really rather bereft.
So thank Baby Jesus himself, that by the bloody twelfth,
I’ll only have one-pissing-week left.