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…I Was Born In Liverpool…Under A Cabbage…I was born in Liverpool under a cabbage! One early morning bright, Me mother had been in labour… The whole of the flippin' night! She got knocked down by a wagon… When she was crossing the road, The wagon skidded harshly, And shed his entire load! Me mum was rushed off to the hospital, A man took her there by car, It was only down the road, And not really that far! She was crying - her leg was cut, And the driver ran off at a blast, But a fella at the bust stop ran after him… And grabbed the hit and run driver fast! Me mum went into labour right there and then, And suffered labour all flippin' night! And when I was born she took one look at me, And almost died of fright! I was born 6 weeks early, Oh dear me, that wasn't good! Only small and looked wrinkly red, As only a baby like me could! She told the midwife to take me away, Said I was so ugly and sad, But the midwife went off her head, She was really blazing mad! She said she should be ashamed, For saying what she said! Me mother went a bit sheepish, And blushed a bright blazing red! Me mother told me where we were born, And she sat with a smile on her face, She explained it as only she could, About each of our birthplace! Me younger bro' was under a book, And me older bro' was under a rose, But me, well I was under a cabbage… That explains me looks I suppose. It always used to upset me, The fact she turned me away when I was born, She said I looked like a wrinkled prune, With no good looks for her to adorn! And actually, she told me she meant it… And that's a very sad thing to say! But what can I do, I am what I am… And I prevailed at the end of the day! I may not have got the looks, But I sure got the strength alright, At the end of the day, that got me through, Cos looks can't help you fight the good fight! …I Fight The Good Fight… …And I Fight Good… Even if I was born under a cabbage! Hmm, do you think I'm a cabbage patch kid? Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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