For this aberration in your hormonal setup
I claim responsibility:
I refuse to produce that particular substance
That could make you covet motherhood,
Courting it with the determination our sex and age demand,
Or so they all say.
But really, I think I might be spared the exertion of procreation
Save up my powers for the hike ahead
And make hay while the sun shines.
Can I remind you of what you put us through,
The two of us slaving away under your will till sister
Psyche turned to me and suggested I throw a few spanners
In the works for all our sakes.
For it seemed to us that all your learning had taught you nothing,
That for all your theorizing about power
You needed a lesson in surrender.
So I thought up a tune that would be heard and whistled it loudly,
Threw in arthritis for good measure so you’d remember,
Having learned to my detriment about your averseness to positive stimuli.
You may of course do as you choose but
At this stage of our coexistence
I must advise against it.