The Humpbacked Robin

Bloated he struts; his beak flicks slickly down;
Department stores glow green in beady eye.
His feathers dead spikes, fallen-needle-brown,
He stabs the fattest worms, disdains to fly;
Seeking for slugs, he scorns to follow stars.
While angels glow and grin in coloured lights,
He croaks a carol at the packaged cars
Which bulge with budgets, brats, demands and fights.

He hops and capers to the gladdened bells:
Goodwill to men and profits by the peck!
Amid the bland lights and the garish yells,
He'll find the dove of peace and crack its neck.
The Good News blares and blinks (the Saviour's born!),
As, grubbing, he awaits the festive morn.

Phyto Baggle