It's Christmas Eve, so I won't write about
The St Bartholomew's Day Massacre
In France in 1572, pout
Though you may, but you had better not, or
No-one will come down your chimney this year
Santa may be no panther - he's panting
And struggling out of bed in his polar
Shed - but, reindeer fed, he'll be departing
For warmer climes (though not much). Snow's falling
This year, so let's be pleased when we look out
Over a crackling red radiator
Look, it's just like all the Christmas paintings!
A snowman's life expectancy's now thought
To be weeks, not days. Say halleluya!
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