I wonder if other readers have been there and done this?
It’s Christmas Eve again, almost midnight
And all through my festooned flat nothing is stirring
Except me, I’m making the mincemeat I forgot to buy
I’m in such a middle if I only had the time I’d cry
Now how many more mincepies is it I should bake?
And when will I find time to ice dear Aunt M’s cake
This year I’d have been more prepared (mincemeat and all)
If it hadn’t ben for Aunt M’s Christmas Eve
(Three-hour long) telephone call.
This year, she’s sent me yet another knitted sweater
(Three sizes too small … again!)
When I asked her for gloves and a hat.
On no, now the cat’s left a Christmas Eve mouse on the mat.
Now how many friends did Cousin John ask round to dine?
(I really do wish I’d not drunk that last glass of mulled wine)
Is that church bells I can hear ringing or
Are they just bells in my head (for my mind’s in a middle
And my feet are like lead)
I wonder why every Christmas Eve from one Christmas crisis
To another I lurch and now if I don’t put a wiggle on
I’ll be late for church.
There I’ll receive the only Christmas gifts worth having
Handshakes and Christmas greetings from friends
And hear about the true meaning of Christmas again
I’ll sing carols with the congregation and then,
Together for peace on earth we’ll pray
And do you know what (after the service)
I’ll even mean it (despite the earlier crises)
When to all I will say “Merry Christmas”.
Paul Farmer, Reading
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