WHAT COMES NEXT?
We heard no sleigh bells ringing – so don’t think that Santa’s been
doubtful that one small sherry would have sent me into dream
land of deepest slumber, more likely the soft sweet sound
of rain again on our tin roof a blessing that – all round.
Most everything is ready for the onslaught of the hordes
who’ll descend on us by lunchtime, hope they all have sheathed their swords.
There’s some who don’t like brussel sprouts, and seems no one likes custard;
too bad, their choice, don’t worry me. I refuse to get flustered.
A Hobby horse I bought for him expecting flattery
the kid just whinged and whined because there were no batteries.
This toy comes without batteries – you have to make it work
yourself. I showed him but he thought his Aunt had gone berserk.
We ate the feast of turkey, chook and ham and salads green.
we pulled the crackers, wore the hats and read jokes not obscene.
You’ve left no room for Christmas Pud? You can’t resist temptation
and gorged yourself on prawns and other juicy fresh crustaceans.
The unwise men will oft do that, you’ll pay the price my son
later tonight when your stomach will play up on you chum.
You’ll beat a well defined path to the loo and back no doubt
so go and get your Mum a beer ‘cause Mate it is your shout.
So who forgot the present? Grandma did. Well never mind
the four legged furry grandkids know ‘twas not an act unkind.
They’ll not die of starvation Mum so don’t you fret and worry
just bring it next time that you come, there is no bleedin’ hurry.
As to where are all his Aunties? Oh we don’t want to go there.
The kid is forty six years old, he doesn’t really care.
It’s water passed beneath the bridge, and old news you’ll agree.
Today’s a day for happiness not angst, don’t you agree?
So Merry Christmas one and all, the prompts for Christmas used
and now the sales on Boxing Day we’re planning to abuse.
Thank God it comes but once a year, thank God the day was sunny.
Some time now to recuperate before the Easter Bunny.
Maureen Clifford © 12/12
