The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Holiday In

I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas
Just like the ones we've always known,
Where the trees are drippy
And pavements slippy,
And we fall and break a bone.

I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas
While children scream and whine and fight;
My days might be merry and bright
Were the brats but gagged and out of sight.

I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas
Just like the sort we always get.
Though recession precludes a bet,
I believe this Christmas will be wet.

Scobbry Nig

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