As long as I can remember
came Christmas cards in December -
my aunts back home to thank.
With glad tidings at yuletide
and always tucked away inside
a cheque from Barclays Bank.
Looking back as I live and muse
on Boxing Day I'd gamble and lose
on some pony my bet to lay.
In the birdcage or at the tote
fleecing ticket stubs in my coat
but I'd be back on Cup Day.
From the past I'm searching for
I too will reminisce at this and more
quickly blowing all my dough.
Like when on my merry way
for a shiny new LP to play
off to the record store I'd go.
To me from the Sweet Briar fairy
came more birthday cards in January
just a few short weeks hence.
Which was a master stroke
for by then I was always broke
as I had more dollars than sense.
As long as this heart of mine
hearkens a carol at Christmas time
or candles a long age bode,
I'll remember a season's joy
and all the cards as a boy
I got from Sweet Briar Road.