I'm not a click chick,
I walk with a stick,
Sometimes I smell of baby sick,
So I can't be a click chick,
I walk with a limp,
Feel like a gimp,
Sometimes I look like a shrimp,
So I cant be a click chick,
I have a bed head,
Look half dead,sometimes I look underfed,
So I can't be a click chick,
Coz they're the perfect ones,
In their designer gowns,
At the school gates,
Nibbling after eight's,
At three fifteen,
They're the clicky mums,
Toned up bums,
Makes ups done,
For the school run,
Perfect hair,
It's just not fare,
I don't have the time to spare,
I'm not a click chick,
They think I'm thick,
They don't smell of baby sick,
They think they're cool,
At the school,
But I'm no fool,
I'm a good mum,
Wobbly ***, make up,
Not done,
But I'm a happy one,
My kids have fun,
Run in the sun,
End up ***** when the day is done,
We are all mums,
Not to be outdone,
At the school run,
So quit your stare,
At my messy hair,
My wrinkled jeans,
It's ok they're clean,
You think your better,
I beg to differ, you just look fitter,
So I don't wanna be a click chick,
I think I'll stick with the baby sick,
I'm a happy gimp with a limp,
I don't mind looking like a shrimp,
At the school gate,
Coz I'm never late,
So you can take your clicky group,
And stick it up your hula hoop.