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She stays awake for hours, cutting Xs in the sprouts, Then peels all the tatties, a ton or thereabouts, Slicing and dicing parsnips is next up in the plan, Chops up carrots and a swede, and put them in a pan, Mixes up her sage and onion and stuffs it in the bird, Along with some pork sausage meat that’s been pre-prepared, She takes apart the oven, to fit the turkey in, Hangs it up with bits of string, there’s no room in the tin, Wraps sausages in bacon, in case they catch a chill, But makes sure they‘re all cooked thoroughly, so the family won’t get ill, Cooks the bird for hours, while the table’s being laid, With all the finest crockery (and some of lower grade), Makes space around the table, brings in extra chairs, Adorns the place with candles and other Christmas wares, Lays out a Christmas cracker in everybody’s place, Complete with rather tacky joke, no doubt of a straight face, And brings out all the condiments, the pickles and the sauce, The salt and pepper, the mustard and radish known as “horse”, Next she makes the starter, the simplest course by far, A cocktail made up of prawns and a sauce out of a jar. The family then all piles in, and argues over seats, The children are already full of chocolates and treats, Grandmother is mumbling, “Kids should be seen not heard”, Meanwhile back in the kitchen Mum’s wrestling with the bird, She tries to carve up slices, but ends up with turkey chunks, While Dad and Gramps have become a pair of Christmas drunks, They start an argument about which wine goes with the meat, And restless children run around, not staying in their seat, Mother tries to keep her calm and bravely soldiers on, But the roasties are all blackened and the sprouts are over done, Mum enters the dining room looking very puffed, She throws the turkey down and shouts ,“There you go! Get stuffed!” 18th November 2012
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