They **** us up, the kids we bear,
A Gordian knot cut through and through
But it’s a blame we have to share
A penalty that’s overdue.

And they’ll be ****** up in their turn
By kids who simply do not care;
Who half the time show no concern
And half are scrabbling in your hair.

The child is father of the man
So how on earth can we complain
When they indulge cruel Nature's plan
And put us through it all again?