Lullabies for Misandrists

When I’m worried and cannot sleep

I count all the male peers I’ve already outstripped professionally and laugh a full-throated laugh

(To the tune of John Mayer’s “Daughters”)

Women, make more than your husbands

Husbands will sob when you do

Baa, baa, black sheep

Have you any wool?

Yes, sir; yes, sir;

Kill all men

Hot cross buns!

Hot cross buns!

One ha’ penny, two ha’ penny,

Hot cross buns!

If you have no daughters,

Give away your sons

One ha’ penny,

Two ha’ penny,

Hot cross buns!

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word

Ever; your sister is talking

Georgie Porgie, puddin’ and pie,

Kissed the girls and made them cry,

When the boys came out to play

The girls sharpened their knives and made a decision.

Little Miss Muffett

Sat on a tuffett

Eating her curds and whey.

It was illegal for white men to practice medicine.

Hello young lovers, whoever you are,

I hope your troubles are few.

All my good wishes go with you tonight,

Feminism doesn’t go far enough.

Hickory, dickory, dock

You know what this rhymes with

And what we’ll do to it.

And you won’t like it.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do;

She gave them some broth without any bread;

Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

She was right to do it; nothing a woman does should be criticized.

In a great green room

there was a telephone

And a red balloon

And a picture of the cow jumping over the moon.

And there were three little bears sitting on chairs

And two little kittens and a pair of mittens

And a little toy house and a young mouse.

And a comb and a brush

And a bowl full of mush

And a quiet old lady who was whispering “Hush” to her male inferiors.

It’s raining, it’s pouring;

The old man is snoring

Now is our chance.

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water.

Jack fell down and broke his crown,

And Jill danced on his grave.

Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree-top

When the bough breaks, the cradle will rock

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall

Under patriarchy, every woman’s son is her potential betrayer.

One, two,

Buckle my shoes;

Three, four,

Open the door;

Five, six,

Pick up sticks;

Seven, eight,

Lay them straight:

Nine, ten,

Start over again, male.

Now it’s time to say good night

Good night, sleep tight

Now the sun turns out xirr light

Good night, sleep tight

You are not permitted to dream,

It is not permitted for men to dream.