Twas two days before Christmas,
And all through the house,
The Doves were a-prepping,
Turkey, puddings and sprouts.
The rooms were all buzzing,
As the relatives arrived,
All of them cursing,
The long busy drive.
In rolled the cases,
In rolled the sacks,
Out came the slippers,
The chatter and snacks.
Everyone shouting,
Keen to be heard,
All kings of the cooking,
As they rolled, chopped and stirred.
Granny was stuffing,
The turkey for eight,
Her sleeves were rolled upwards,
Her hands in a state.
The windows were steamy,
The heating full blast,
The voices, some strained,
Were content with their tasks.
The children were choosing,
The frozen bird’s name,
They settled on Terence,
In the seasonal game.
Daddy was outside,
Stringing the lights,
‘Better than the neighbours,''
‘They’ve only used white.’
The inflatable Santa,
Once 6 ft but sagging,
Waved from the front lawn,
His arms slightly dragging.
While Mummy at the front door,
Rolling her eyes,
Cast an unimpressed glance,
At his masking taped thighs.
The street’s tasteful twinkling,
All families inside,
Yet our lights were blazing,
Like a Disneyland ride.
Indoors was Grandpa,
In his usual position,
Racing Uncle Andy,
(The Scalextric was tradition).
Auntie watches sipping snowball,
Wearing pink fluffy boots,
‘I’ve won!’ shouts
Grandpa,
‘3-0 now,’ he hoots.
Mummy calls us for dinner,
In her red festive pinny,
‘Salmon’s on the table,’
She shouts, ‘you great ninny.’
As the family then gather,
As the table is laid,
The stress all dies down,
The peace is all made.
The Doves begin Christmas,
With a smile and a snicker,
Merry Christmas to all,
And to all a good bicker!
