Another Christmas

It's that time of year and we've spent our hard earned cash,

on cards and presents and a good Christmas bash.

We'll all get presents that will force us to smile,

and the gift that you wanted will be missed by mile.

There'll be books, chocolate, underwear and socks,

just the usual gifts but no great shocks.

Then food galore will be dumped on the table,

and we'll gorge ourselves till we're no longer able.

There will be burps and farts and occasional snore,

until all we ate settles then we go back for more.

We'll sit around the TV and watch the Queen's speech,

and get the usual guest that hangs on like a leech.

When the evening comes there's more food to eat,

at least for those that can still find their feet.

For the sherry has flowed and beer has been drunked*,

for the oldies some tea in which biscuits are dunked.

We'll all sing some hits of a bygone era,

and remember those absent, like my cousin Vera.

Then off the guests go to their own little homes,

waddling merrily like drunken garden gnomes.

The washing up and the mess that they made,

unwashed and untouched in the dining room stayed.

Then it's off to bed feeling ever so stuffed,

my amorous advances ignored and rebuffed!


* artistic license