Jolly merry Christmas again draws near
Filling me with nausea, not good cheer,
For for fifty- one weeks I've slaved away
To pay for last years 'happy' holiday.
I've had miserable luck with lottery draws-
My best bet's on that real long shot Santa Claus,
My kiddies belief on him remains unshaken,
Is it only me the mean old codger's forsaken?
Santa please add me to your delivery list,
Lately I've been the one you've somehow missed,
This good ol' boy has been good, so why is it
You cain't once favour me with a flying visit?
And I need some of your largesse, believe you me
To help me survive the annual spending spree,
Leave me some goodwill when you grace our place,
Say, something crisp and green, in an attache case?
You well know, Santa, the poor year I've had,
The kids were so good, the 'conomy so damn bad,
I asked the boss for a rise, reflexively he resisted,
Hopefully Father Christmas won't be so tight-fisted.
But I can't complain, though hours and money's down,
Covid's left my once buzzing office like a ghost town,
So one wrong word and my white Christmas turns black,
My Boss would secretly, Santa like, love to gimme the sack.
On Christmas day, shall my offsprings eyes shine?
Happily they will, but not nearly as tearily as mine,
'Cause in this poor house Santa has not yet set foot,
No filled stockings on the fireplace, no trace of soot.
The gifts arrayed there are the few I've hard bought-
Plus, Walmart saw me coming, bastards sold me short,
Mine eyes will be red and running, my cheeks dripping wet,
Again my no-show Santa will drop me deep in the shi debt.
(One dragged up from the vaults, plus an updated verse- because of the year we've all had.)
Thirteen Days Till Christmas.
(Two people close to my heart
Departed twenty-four hours apart,
So now come every thirteenth of December
I take a shot or two to help me not remember.)
With but a dozen lousy sleeps before Christmas Day
I can count on reminders of two who have passed away,
Today Carey's heart-wringing singing leaves me unenamoured
So I'll flip Mariah's seasonal CD off and carry on getting hammered.
There's not a solitary sodden year I've let pass
Without solemnly raising my twice charged glass,
Sure, tomorrow todays toasts will leave me sorely troubled;
Now my efforts to forget todays regrets demand to be redoubled.
(This began as an entry for Chel Owens A Mused poetry comp but snuck off on me. Again.)
Christmas Catch Ya'll Up. / John Deere Letter.
Hi guys, it's time to keep ya'll in the know,
With the festivities near we've horns to blow,
Folks do tell 'times is hard and the 'conomy's shot'
But we're happy as clams, cause we've got the lot.
Hubby Bubba's gone up yet another pay grade,
He must've sold every pickup truck Jeep made,
The twins is gettin' schooled and topping their class,
We're hopin', with luck they'll scrape a C and even pass!
Cody done won the Jumbo stuffed bear at the tri-county fair,
Took down them three ducks with two rounds to spare,
At the bake sale mah apple pie took out first prize as well,
The only Blue Ribbon you'll stick on this Southern belle.
Our Jolene is playing Virgin Mary in the nativity play,
Their damn Rodeo's ain't playing Joseph, if I have my way-
No mistletoe kisses a'tween Jo Hatfield and Rodeo McCoy,
I sez 'Jolene, you don't have no truck with that bad boy.'
But then that dang new preacher had to up'n speak
'Let's try to forgive and forget, turn the other cheek,'
If I believed that liberal trash I'd be a'wineing at Mass-
This Southern Baptist knows Rodeo's coveting Jolene's ass.
Still, I must say they look good together, they act pretty tight,
They've practised at the Church Hall religiously every night,
Now Jo is a shining star as Mother Mary, positively glowing,
We're praying, when Christmas comes Jo won't be showing.
Best Presents EVER.
We'll non-too-soon be seeing the end of Trump/Pence
Although Donald insists on living in the past tense,
His denying of fact, lack of tact and simple common sense
Means Don's childish tanTrumps still cause offence.
Forget fighting Covid, Don's focusing on firing off viral comments
And fragging his frazzled looking Secretary of Defence,
Don has sworn- loudly- he'll not spare one single donors expense
On recounting and courting his Supreme justice nonsense.
So though it's early, let's now let our Thanksgivings commence,
On till Christmas Eve fill the air with carols, joy and frankincense,
Then roll on January, when ends a reign of dumb ignorance,
Then we can all look forward to cool calm and quiet competence.
Dang, I hadn’t completed my gift shopping after all,
So around our madhouse of a mall I rush pell-mell,
One good thing about our fetid crowded big-ass mall
Is air-conditioning that at least makes this a fresh hell.
Still, that fat-mouthed jolly Santa faintly smells-
A hint, a delicate whiff from his reindeer’s stalls?
Yo, Santa Claus, kindly stow your jingling bells
Cause Kris, I’m apt to break some Christmas balls.
As I pay and walk away my high(?) spirits begin to fall
As I hear the music from the Salvation Army band swell,
Their sadly out-of-tune caroling drove me up the wall
So I’ve decked the halls and two bell-ringers as well.
Down at the mall they’ve stuck up the tree,
There’s Christmas carols blaring out repeatedly,
Every jangle from ‘The First Noel’ to ‘Jingle Bells’-
Peace and harmony, at nigh on a hundred decibels.
Belafonte’s belting out ‘The Little Drummer Boy’
Crosby’s ‘White Christmas’ is beginning to annoy,
I know by heart ‘Snoopy’s Christmas’s’ idiot refrain,
And round comes Harry’s pa rum pum pum again.
Stretched shopping bags are groaning,
Once chatty assistants are monotoning,
In their empty eyes the thousand-yard stare
As you join the queue you share their despair.
Standing in line, time pointlessly expended,
Praying your line of credit isn’t over-extended,
Stuck behind a snotty kid who tromps on your toes;
Wouldn’t you love to give Rudey a bloody red nose?
There’s more to Christmas than spending scores in stores
And we’ve lived too long to believe in a jolly Santa Claus,
What would we give to spend some Christmas cheer
With a select few who’ve gone on and left us here?
Huddersfield Town’s future, so bright last June
Finally faded at Crystal Palace this dull afternoon,
It’s bound to be a silent, sad, sombre- and sober- coach trip
As the Terriers head back up North, down to the Championship.
By Xmas, Town knew it was gonna be tough at the top
But it’s a lot rougher when you’re the first team to drop,
To survive in the Premier League is a simple numbers game;
When Town tote up their losses all it amounts to is a crying shame.
If only Huddersfield’s brittle defence had been stronger
Or if their busy goalkeepers arms had been a little longer,
Or if they had a striker- or two- to pop in an occasional winner
The Terriers season mightn’t be finishing up a total dogs dinner.