Twas the night before Christmas.
Oh no ... that's been done.

Hang on
... ahem (clears throat)
OK, here we go:

Mother made Christmas.

It's Christmas, early morning
and Mam is peeling veg
She's tired and her nerves are frayed
she's teetering on the edge
of a full blown seasonal tantrum
and her head is thump, thump, thumping
the place is in a mess
because the tree's already dumping
all it's needles on the shag-pile
and the lights have blown a fuse,
the dog just ate the fairy
and there's carnage on the news
cos some idiot reporter
grabbed a mic and said
that there's been and reindeer pile up
and now Santa Claus is dead.
The kids are suicidal and will not be placated.
The cat is looking smug,
we think it might have mated
with the turkey on the worktop
which is incidentally .. snuffed,
still frozen in the middle
and now well and truly STUFFED !
so we throw it in the bin and Mam cooks beef instead.
Takes codeine (which works wonders) for the thumping in her head.
Cleans, dusts and vacuums,
lays the table for the spread.
Dishes up .. and washes up, once everybody's fed.
Then collapses on the sofa to watch the Wizard of Oz.
Falls asleep and snores a bit but we just smile because
Christmas is a triumph
Thanks to her, it always is,
and this rhyme is penned in tribute
to say,
Thanks Mam
... your the Biz !


ŠL.Voss.Nov2003