Ant Smith

Poetry

Present

Deck the halls with spumes of tinsel

Fa la la la la la-aaah, god…

No trinkets hanging on my tree

No baubles swaying in the breeze

No robin’s standing in the snow

No angels praying to save my sole.

No Quietly Comforting glass of sherry

No Queen Elizabeth on the Telly

No snowman walking in the air

No each to each, no equal share

No Christmas truce lest we forget

The less words spoken the more things said

It ain’t the thought,

it ain’t the feeling

It is just the ritual of the dealing

Where emotional blackmail is a form of stealing

The labours,

of our work

No

black’n’decker, black’n’decker, black’n’decker, black’n’decker,

black’n’decker, black’n’decker, black’n’decker, black’n’decker,

No brut aftershave, aquatonic

No Christmas Santa woolly socks

No bargain basement tinsel toss

No iPhone

No iPod

No iTunes

No iTouch

No Xbox

No Sony

No DS

No PC

No Gamecube

No Nintendo Wii

You got to Shoot’em-up

It ain't the giving,

it ain't the receiving

It’s the great tradition of mass deceiving

Where you actually find yourself believing

We could have

Peace on earth

Possession is nine tenths

Possession is nine tenths

Possession is nine tenths

Of the problem

Fa la la la la, la la la la

Poetry