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