A Christmas poem
Oh Christmas comes but once a year
and any more often, I fear,
would lead to endless snow-like swathes
of festive footballing clichés!
Who are this year’s figgy puds?
Who has been naughty and who good?
Will three points for your team be
waiting under the Christmas tree?
‘Bah! Humbug!’ is what I say,
when I turn on Match of the Day
and hear the host spout this drivel
every single winterval.
This time of year is hard enough
what with blizzards, hails and floods
stopping us travelling away
and no bloody buses on Boxing Day.
So this year can we please exclude
those trite, banal platitudes?
And anyone who a pun does crack
should be given the Christmas sack.