Here, men bore infants—  
Banners across the poles.  
A crown he deserves.
The lady must bow!

She works 9 to 5,  
As he stays at home.  
Nine months of scrutiny—  
Bless him! How did he hold?

Give him some space,  
Hold the king high!  
Oh, the cramps he must face—  
Could she ever now?

Give her a veil, for she must cover.  
Oh! He looks after the kids—  
God’s descendant! A throne we must give.

Let him cry, for he feels pain,  
But the lady must not.  
How thick her skull must be!

Give him some space,  
Let her take care of the kids.  
Sick he must be—  
Of all the chores he did!

Ahoy, Utopia!  
Roles reversed,  
Here everything would change—  
For nothing, or for the worse.