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.