Covid Christmas
(Foreword: don’t know the score elsewhere, but the UK has a rule of six... which is the number of people who can gather as a group. Unless they’ve changed it... again).
My sister, my brother, my father, my mother
Came round Christmas Eve and we chose to stay in
We sat round the table with old auntie Mabel
She’s slightly unstable but always brings gin.
About half past seven to Jesus in heaven
We said a wee prayer then we drank until late
But thanks to the drinking, we weren’t really thinking
And some bloody fool lit a fire in the grate
With much drunken banter we talked about Santa
At midnight we all heard a sound on the roof
But with no sin in me, I called up the chimney
Don’t send Rudolph down or he’ll get a burnt hoof
Then out from the ashes poor Santa Claus dashes
And patted the burns where the fire had licked
Then there was a din and the door was kicked in
The cop said that’s seven and you lot are nicked
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2020
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