Pig fry, brylcreem and Mass,
Communion for mother,
Chat of junior football,
Cows, calves and fodder.
Ties, tosspit and tanners,
Market –house meet,
Wafer wedged ice-cream,
Nugget finished feet.
Mary Kelly home again,
Photos of her London
Daddy said she couldn’t buy
leggins for a mouse.
Father Peter hinting at
a drop in Christmas dues,
The one man in the parish
with a pair of leather shoes.
Red berries and a hint of snow,
a robin on the vestry wall,
Goodwill and cheer for everyman,
I wonder if they care at all?
Still, we’ll enjoy the golden goose
and roasted spuds and all of that
and pull the paper cracker
and wear its silly paper hat.
Two oranges in a woolly sock
tinwhistle made by Clarke,
Plum pudding with its holly peak,
Bing Crosby ‘live’ from Central Park .
Santa Claus and innocence melted
with the crunchy snow,
Bitter farewell, after sweet hello.
Stephen’s Day special once
now just another dawn
noting nights passing,
Christmas is gone.
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