There was a large and quite varied response to the request for verse comments on aspects of the annual extravaganza. Entries ranged from mince pies and peppermints to small boats in the Channel, climate change and Stop Oil. Bill Holloway found waiting for angels something like waiting for buses while Julia Griffin in her second entry was dreaming of a might-Christmas.
With thanks to all who took part, below in no particular order are the survivors of the judge’s seasonal sieving.
John Cooper: ‘Not’ Jingle Bells
Tramping in the rain,
Getting all soaked through.
To buy another hopeless gift
That I can give to you.
Spirits very low
Temper getting high.
All I want is to get home tonight,
Yes that I can’t deny. Oh!
Christmas. Hell! We all fell
Out of love with it long ago.
It’s just not fun for everyone,
And now costs us too much ‘dough’! Oh
Christmas. What! Seems we’ve all forgot
How bad it all can be.
Can’t Santa take a break this year,
Just stay home with a cup of tea!
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Michael Swan: Not Just A Fable
Who on earth
still believes the Birth
in a lowly stable
was not just a fable?
Well, I know quite a few.
To name one or two,
there’s my Aunty Doris,
Great-Uncle Maurice,
the Murphy brothers,
and lots of others.
Like Antonio’s grandma,
who lives in Panama,
where they have the isthmus.
Happy Christhmus.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Martin Parker: Premature Birth
Each 25th of December sees us
Celebrating the Birth of Jesus
In a frantic orgy of retail insanity
Which reflects very poorly on Christianity.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Claire Booker: Five Mince Pies
I’m a patisserie pie
in the window, tempting the eye.
Come buy, come buy!
Here I am, yet another
baked in a rush by mother,
fingers a flutter with flour and butter.
Ssh, I can hear Santa.
Yes, that’s definitely reindeer banter.
I’ll be guzzled on high at a canter.
Hands off, I’m posh,
gold leaf on every surface. Bish bosh,
£300. That’s Oligarch’s nosh.
Bagged up in the Food Bank hall,
I’m nothing special at all –
if you have it all.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
John Wood: Pre-Nativity Uncertainty
There was a young man from Judea
Chose godliness as a career.
We learn from the fable
Of mother and stable
But just who was Dad is unclear.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Mike Mesterton-Gibbons: 'Tis The Season
'Tis the season to be frugal,
Na-da-da-da-da, da-church-mouse-like.
Blow through fists to play the bugle,
Ta-ra-ra-ra-ra, the harp's on strike.
Don we clothing-bank donations,
Fa-la-la-la-freebies, owt for nowt.
Newsprint does for decorations,
Fa-la-la-la-la, the yule log's out.
Fast we, as the year goes retro,
Merrily in tune, to thrift, as we
Deck the hall with bows of Metro,
Fa-la-la-la-la, sans Christmas tree.
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Jane Blanchard: Almost Advent
So sorry to take you to task,
But there is something I must ask:
When will you ever eat the last
Brach*s peppermint from Christmas past?
ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ
Julia Griffin: The Missal in the Mistletoe,
or Yonder Peasant Who Is She?
I like my Christmas carols plain,
Not monophone or jivy:
Three Kings, Three Ships, the First Nowell,
The Holly and the Ivy,
Some Joyful Angels keen to join
The Triumph of the Skies:
Not wailing Anglo-Saxon monks,
Or Hollywood G.I.s.
O Good King Wenceslas, look out!
Preserve us, as we sing,
From swingin' Bingin' Crosbygard,
And Hildecross von Bing!
