BAD TIMES PASS

Sharon, thanks to GHB,
Was knocked up, by a stranger.
“Where's your noggin?” said her mom:
I told you of the danger!
Now d' you see the outcome of
Your lollygagging habits?
Money might as well be burnt
That's spent on pulling rabbits!”

She was set to spread her legs,
For fetus interventus,
When she saw a shibboleth
Both pointed and portentous,
On a city bus's back,
Which halted her endeavour.
“Bad times pass,” it sermonized;
“Abortion is forever.”

“”Keep it?” said her nettled mom,
Determined to prevent her:
“Not beneath my roof, you don't,
Miss!” So, she phoned the centre.
“Yes, we're happy,” said a voice,
“To offer information,
To the strays beneath our wing,
And praise, and consolation.”

“I was thinking more of help
With clothing, food and shelter,”
Sharon said, respectfully,
Aspiring, thus, to melt her.
“After all, a baby needs
A lot more than affection.”
All she heard, in answer, was
The click of disconnection.

(“pulling rabbits” is slang for performing abortions)

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