Once a Month
She’s doing my head in; I'm at my wits end
I reckon she’s losing the plot
Her tempers are fierce and her moods have no trend
And I’m struggling to deal with the way that she’s got
She gives me no warning of what is in store
And erupts at the drop of a hat
I’ve stopped trying to find out what is wrong anymore
Why she finds fault in this and in that
My once gentle darling is now snapping and snarling
And all that I do is still wrong
Being caring and loving, reassuring and giving
Brings even more spite from her tongue
This female behaviour that causes such stress
(That in men would be labelled ‘Quite Mad’)
Has no rhyming or reason but when it’s in season
PMT wears us blokes down a tad
Who else would she pick on to let it all out?
When the needle goes into the Red
Well I’ve had enough; I’m not taking her ‘Stuff’!
So I’ve gone ‘til she sorts out her Head.
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