Long ago, the whole world had a Born Horn
With a trumpet-blast loud as a bomb
It sounded whenever a baby
Came slip-sliding out of its mom.
But soon there were more and more babies
And the Born Horn went off every hour
It disturbed people sleeping or working
Or cooking or taking a shower.
So the people cried: “Ban the damn Born Horn!”
But the Born Hornsman said: “People, please!
Does the thought of a soul sliding into the world
Not quiver the caps of your knees?
Is it too much to ask just to pause for a sec
When new eyes and new noses arrive?
Does each horn blast not mean: ‘Hallelujah!
A dear sibling, at last, is alive!’?
For aren’t we all brothers and sisters?
Is each human not one of our own?
Don’t you picture each babe when the Born Horn goes off?
Don’t you think to it: ‘child, welcome home’?”
“No, we don’t and we won’t!” cried the people
“'Cause the Born Horn goes off all the time!
It’s obnoxious and pointless, and from this day on
Born Horn ringing’s considered a crime!”
So the Born Hornsman packed up his Born Horn
And the babies kept sliding on in
With nobody paying attention
Except for their nearest of kin.
“Well, I can’t have my horn,” thought the Hornsman
“But perhaps I could buy a small chime.”
So he did, and he rang it when babies were born
And thought: "child, welcome home" every time.
