It’s a Boy
With urgency a bell rings clear,
The labour ward – a baby’s near.
The pupil feels she needs a friend,
Her hair is standing upon end.
A scream comes through the open door,
Her feet are rooted to the floor.
Sister yells “Don’t stand and stare,
Hurray yourself she’s nearly there,
Where’s your mask you should have brought,
Kindly remember what you’re taught”.
Patient lays all of a shiver
Pupil stands all of a dither,
She thinks “Oh dear” and then “Now what?”
(Deliver the baby of course you clot).
There he is all pink and wet
Could have been caught with a fishing net,
Baby yells with all his might,
Pupil looks a terrible sight.
The third stage now is safely past,
A teapot hoves in sight at last.
The delivery’s gone without a hitch
What’s more – without a single stitch.
Pupil’s feeling rather heady
But her nerves are much more steady.
She feels that with a couple of gins
She now could deal with quads or twins.
MIDWIFERY DEPARTMENT – ST LUKE’S HOSPITAL AND SOCIAL MAGAZINE DECEMBER 1961