All my friends are getting pregnant
Yes, they’re all having sprogs
They’re all getting round and ungainly
They no longer fit their togs.

Well I peeked at Choral Chat the other day
And I read the now-familiar news
It said, “Morning sickness is a horrid thing”
It said, “I’ve been wakin’ up with the spews”

I begged her, say it isn’t true
And she told me it was so, and she was glad
Showed me a CAT scan of her groin
And I thought, “My God, it looks just like its Dad”

(Chorus)

Sometimes I feel like I’m left behind
And sometimes I feel like I just left school
Wonder if I’ll ever grow up…
I hope not! I’m no breeding fool!

(Chorus)

But I’m all caught up being flighty
And I’m all caught up having sex
So I’m all stocked with good condoms
No way I’ll ever be the next…

(Chorus)