For the Perthshire Mummy Brigade


It’s 6 in the morning you’re lying in bed,

You’re watching your husband get dressed and you’ve said:

‘Let me turn down your collar, I’ll straighten your tie.’

You’ve toasted his success, ‘Here’s mud in your eye!’

His new job is starting, he’s anxious as fuck,

You hope that for his sake he really won’t suck.

You stand at the window and wave him Goodbye,

1950 is calling, 2018 passed you by.


Your wish for today is for a paid job

that’s quiet, controlled, not ruling a mob.

A mob from the ages of 10, 5 and 2,

A mob that still hasn’t quite mastered the loo.

A job where you’re working from 9 until 5,

A job where you’re earning, where you feel alive.

Instead you have ‘chosen’ quite how you’re not sure

to be the Good Housewife, the Mother, not more.

The laundry is endless, the cleaning no fun,

You ask yourself daily, what else could I have done?


You’re called a real nag, a grumpy old bitch,

‘Yap, yap’ your kids tell you, ‘you sound like a witch.’

Baba Yaga you tell them, has nothing on you,

They’ll be toads, mice or gargoyles, so pick up those shoes!

Or maybe you’ll roast them, add apples and nuts?

It worked for Hansel and Gretel, so don’t push your luck!

Each day at 11 you ask yourself this:

Is it really too early to start getting pissed?

At least when you’re drunk you’re masses of fun,

Your husband, if lucky, might get you to come…

Well now you are dreaming, but it made you laugh,

Shit look at the time, the kids need a bath.


Your friends when they ask you with curious looks,

What on earth are you doing? Are you reading new books?

Are you following Politics?  Writing petitions galore?

You smile so serenely, say you’re expecting number four.

You’ve vajazzled your g-spot, painted your fingernails blue,

With only three kids, what else can you do?

You wish they would realise, it’s a crock of old shit,

You wish you had time in the day to stay fit,

To do all those things that they think you can do,

At the moment your third one is covered in goo.

One day when you’re older and have lost your teeth,

When you’re peeing your pants and have forgotten all speech,

Your kids will be faced with your messiness too,

Jesus, look what Mum did! She did it for you.

2 thoughts on “Martha

  1. You’re on a roll, this one’s good too
    S’pose folk will think it’s all about you.
    Least that’s better than thinking it’s me
    With this latest work I got off Scott free.

    Liked by 2 people

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