Due Date

I just heard that you’re expecting.
You might not know the date.
I wrote a little poem, which
Should further obfuscate.

Because you see, I bought a book
And read last night in bed,
From guesses on one hundred births,
Just one’s picked on the head.

Some say that it takes nine months,
I’ve heard some say it’s more.
Or you can count in moons or suns
Like ancient jungle lore.

But if you take your Ti leaves, and
Your Tarot’s, Crystal Ball;
Mix gently with a Rabbits Foot,
And give a Banshee call;

I’ll share with you a formula
That’s sure to promulgate
With no degree of certainty
A real live ball-park date.

If you recall the first day of
The period you had
Before they stopped completely,
Then please note it on a pad.

Now add to that just seven days.
And when you’ve got the sum,
Count backwards three months, very good,
Now write down where we’ve come.

With this date very firm in hand
You add to it a year.
And that is when they’ll pull it out…
That day or very near.