Christening & Naming Poems

An extract from a poem written for The Naming of Emily (with thanks to Tanya for allowing us to use the poem on the website)

LABOUR WARD
The mind of Stuart when he scored
Was hardly on the labour ward.
If he knew then what he knows now,
His passion might have ebbed somehow.

But being loving, good and true
Decided he would see it through.
The doctor rang, "The time is near
It's really time that you were here."

Though Stuart loved his Tanya so
He didn't really want to go
He didn't want to be a dad,
He'd rather go out with the lads.

Stuart is the kind of bloke
Who likes a pint, who likes a joke.
Is he really meant to be
Cut out for paternity?

He breathed in hard-this was no fun
He had to do what must be done,
His spirits were depressed and lowly
(He drove to the hospital rather slowly)

He was as strong as strong as he could be
He saw a sign "Maternity"
His legs like wobbly jelly were
But he went in to be with her.

But where was Tanya? … all he saw
Were plain and ugly, not like her
(It was a miracle most rare
That that lot ever got in there!)

One ghastly face, washed out and pale
About to enter Death's dark vale-
A piteous sight, so woebegone,
Made Stuart shudder and move on……

But then a voice he thought he knew
Muttered feebly, "I love you!"
He turned, he looked, he must declare
"My God it's Tanya lying there!"

She really did look pretty rough
And Stuart felt he'd had enough:
Was this some kind of martyrdom?
O no! The worst was still to come!

The midwife held the scissors out
"Take these, for you have heard no doubt
It's tradition in all labour wards
For the lady's man to cut the chords …"

We won't go into everything
But Stuart's resolve was weakening
"Fetch me a ladder," he cried fainting,
"I'd rather do some bloody painting!"

A poem written for The Christening of Grace (with thanks to Mike for allowing us to use the poem on the website)

See Grace – a child most beautiful
With hazel-green dark eyes
And olive skin, and cheeky smile
A child to mesmerize –

Like when she stands (she won't sit down)
And with a little wave
"Bye Bye" she says – you'd never think
She'd ever misbehave.

No cupboard though is safe from her:
Once it's identified,
A desperate need comes over her
To empty what's inside.

There's Cornflakes, Crispies, Shredded Wheat
All opened everywhere
And that can only mean one thing:
You now that she's been there.

That it's uneaten is quite odd
For we have all assumed
That any food that Grace may find
By Grace will be consumed.

For Grace's endless appetite-
The sheer amount she eats
Astounds the awe-struck adult world
And logic quite defeats.

It's time to eat so there she sits
Just like a chick inside
A nest with other hungry chicks
Their mouths all open wide.

And in it goes – food's everywhere
Her cheeks, her lips, her chin.
If she could speak, then she would say
"Who cares – just spoon it in!"

So may a healthy appetite
God grant in years ahead,
And give her this and every day
Her wholesome daily bread.

What else may lie ahead for you?
What fortunes may befall?
It's time to have a little peek
Into the crystal ball.

Will you be feisty, fierce and bold,
A lion just like Sam?
Or will your spirits be as soft
And gentle as a lamb?

Will you play rugby – football – maybe
Watch the FA Cup?
And with Caribbean pirates
Hoist the Jolly Roger up?

Or turning to things feminine
From all rough games you'll shrink –
To love your ballet class instead
And fluffy things in pink?

In this you'll be like Millie but
She plays another part:
To be like her, you'll have to find
A tomboy in your heart.

And you will have to learn by heart
Your sister's favourite song:
It is "Good toes and naughty toes"
Sung loudly all day long.

Like Millie watch Cbeebies just
As soon as you are able,
And if another comes along
Push her like Aunty Mabel.

However you turn out to be
I know it's for the best
For with a loving family
Your life is truly blessed.

A poem written for The Christening of 'Emma'

I'd not known Sarah all that long
But long enough to know
I had to marry her at once
No point in being slow …

I whisked her off to Venice where
We wed – I couldn't wait
You see I'm of advancing years
I'm all of 48.

And so we crossed San Marco Square
And the Rialto Bridge
Where wild romance had to concede
To talk of parentage.

The months of Sarah's pregnancy
Were hardly months of ease
For illness ran its painful course
Through both our families.

And Sarah's heartburn troubled her
She said it burned for me
I liked to think so, but I know
She suffered medically.

Then April came and she looked down
And saw her ample girth
"I've had enough," she then announced,
"It's time that I gave birth."

She couldn't wait, for Emma came
Three days before her time:
All sickness then was buried in
A moment quite sublime.

None was as beautiful as you
A mother with my child,
Who lit the whole of Scunthorpe up
The moment that she smiled.

Dear Emma – Emmie – I can speak
For both of us today
We promise that our love for you
Will never go away.

And soon, in not too many years,
A promise you must make,
Which if you don't, or fail to keep,
Your father's heart will break.

I will not mind your childish moods
Or your teenage tirades;
As long as you will promise me,
You won't support the Blades.

I won't care if you cry all night
I'll even love your scowls
As long as you will promise me
You will support the Owls.

There's one more question: will you be
Like Sarah, a True Blue?
Or keep the red flag flying high
Like Dad is prone to do?

Or will this teach you how to be
A subtle diplomat –
So will you choose, instead, to be
A Liberal Democrat?

Whatever colours you may wear
To your own heart be true,
Then all God's blessings from on high
Will ever be with you.

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Christening & Naming Poems

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