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XMAS 2005 ©

Tom Barker
Joondalup, Australia

Dear Mother hez went up ti heaven,
an' left me weepin' doon 'ere below.
Dad follered Mum at quarter past seven
an ah'm left ere alone in the snow.

An’ if God made honky tonk Angels,
he aught ti hev gin 'em bigger wings.
Cos every time they rin ti take aff.
they trip ower aw they dangley strings.

Wha Percey is jinin’ the Para’s,
cos he’s cheezed aff wi’ jist bidin' at hame.
Mebbies ‘e glegged sum braw photies,
o’ lasses paradin’ in their undies in Rome.

The chuffin’ Parrot got oot her cage on Setdi,
an’ crapped in aw oor cups o’ ‘ot tea.
Noo she’s cawin’ under the cowd tap,
wi’ blisters doon ti her knee.

Whisper hes made aw the cake icin’,
an Donna hes knitted a wee muff.
An’ Owd Fred the boozer's Budgie will grateful,
cos a frozen dingle at Xmas is gey rough.

Auld Yin hez made the plum puddin’ o’ coorse
though ah ponder wit inti it she hes mixed
Three bottles o’ Jonny Walker nae doot,
yin wiff an’ yer brains is transfixed.

The white sauce of coorse is a secret recipe of Docs,
an’ ye canny buy it fer silver dollars.
But efter the meal yer will feel yer haunds steal,
ti loosen aw yer belts an’ yer collars.

The prood puddin’ is doused wi’ brandy,
an’ silently we watch it as it burns alite.
But Burn’s didnie mak this Puddin’ ye ken!
so he wull jist hev ti wait fi, “Burn’s nicht”

This nicht belangs ti owd Santa,
God bless him an’ all his prezzies an’ pud.
An’ happy New Year ti aw the Weatsheaf mob,
cos in the owd year yuz aw did good.

But ah jist hope ah’m nae weers near that big pud,
if sum joker strikes a wee match.
Jist ring Gollach ti fill his pipes up wi watter,
then race ower ti save thon Weatsheaf’s thatch.

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