Bah Humbug!

Bah Humbug!

 I’m the ghost of Christmas present,

 I come to haunt you each year.

 I’ve noticed  the lead up to Christmas

 doesn’t seem to fill you with cheer,

 when faced with the task of buying

 ideal gifts, for your loved ones, dear.

 Let’s start by drawing up a list

 of things we think they’d adore.

 This task you’ll find is much easier

 and becomes far less of a bore

 if, before you start writing, you swig

 a bottle of Le Piat Dor!

 So it’s off to the shops next day

 armed with your plastic card stash.

 Paying for Christmas seems painless

 if you don’t have to part with hard cash.

 Hours later the list is abandoned

 and you’re buying any old trash!

Back home you’re surrounded with labels

and paper in all different hues.

There are so many presents all over

you can’t think whose is whose,

and the Bing Crosby tape in the background

is beginning to give you the blues.

The bottle of Baileys is empty

The wrapping was actually a farce,

No-one made you a cup of tea

And offers of help were sparse,

You’re beginning to sound like Jim Royle,

with mumbles of  ‘Christmas my arse!’

The presents are wrapped and under the tree

the countdown to the big day’s begun.

Although I don’t think you’d agree with me

 our time together was fun.

I’ll be back to haunt you again next year,

but for now, my work here is done.