“I want to have a baby,”
Said Delilah with a sigh,
And as she did, a yearning look
Brought stars into her eyes.

“The doctors say I mustn’t –
That to speak of it is mad!
But they don’t know how long I’ve pined
For a little lass or lad.

“Either rosy, chubby cherub,
Or an Impling would suffice.
I couldn’t care less as to comeliness
Or if its temper’s nice.

“Just one tiny, gentle infant,
For my life shall be a loss
If I can’t have one more baby
With a side of tartar sauce.”