Dear Mrs Beckham
So you'd like a girl
I have such a pearl
But I'd never do you a swap.
She's almost four
And occasionally a chore
But can still make my heart go flip-flop.
Three boys already
The thought makes me heady
Even with buckets of dosh.
But you yearn for a lass
And I think that's class
A Mini-Me specially for Posh.
But are you sure you are ready
For tantrums a many
And stubbornness you won't believe?
For even you with your Choos
Are unable to choose
The sex of the child you conceive.
But I wish you good luck
For girl you have pluck
And I for one hope you succeed
Though we're chalk and cheese
Motherhood is no breeze
And that's a truth that we all must concede.
Oh, one thing that I read
That may fill you with dread
But for others is not doom and gloom
If you eat lots of choccy
Forget the size of your botty
There's more chance of a girl in your womb!
What do you think of our fab poem?
Can you put your wishes to the Beckhams in verse?