Perhaps it’s the season
As everyones at home
Nothing left of the turkey
Just grease an bone
Gone is the brandy whisky
And gin all that remains
Is bloated and sinful thoughts
Of what could have been
If only I’d got the presents
Of my dreams but instead
I sit here bemused wearing
My new Xmas jumper and
Slippers that look like shoes
Ahh well theres next year for
Wishful delights until then I’ll
Set here and turn off the light
As the shadows are making me