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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required [A parody of Mistletoe and Wine... apologies to Sir Cliff] [‘Chorus’ indented for easy skipping if desired] This night it will bring, a venomous sting His life is long past, his cadaver’s grinning He smells dreams of Santa and knows where to go Innocents burning, their faces aglow Christmas time, Mr Slow will dine Children think he’s all in the mind But kids on the fire and hung from the tree Attest to his awful, grim reality He seeks in no hurry, no haste, no scurry Browsing each home with no fear nor worry Each child he finds, dispatched without flurry Taken for minced meat or fillet or curry Christmas time, Mr Slow will dine Children think he’s all in the mind But kids on the fire and hung from the tree Attest to his awful, grim reality A hypnotic stare, no eyebrows, no hair Two gaping nostrils but no nose is there A gash for a mouth with one sabre incisor A Christmas release for my silent insider Christmas time, Mr Slow will dine Children think he’s all in the mind But kids on the fire and hung from the tree Attest to his awful, grim reality I stare in awe as my Yule tide replacement Makes his return to this never-world basement Looks in the mirror, no heed of the crack And I’m all a quiver: it’s me looking back Christmas time, Mr Slow will dine Children think he’s all in the mind But kids on the fire and hung from the tree Attest to his awful, grim reality
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