I'd like to tell about Christmas:
Long ago, when I was quite young.
About pudding and turkey and presents,
And socks that on bedposts were hung.
We kids were sent to bed early
To let the grown-ups have fun:
"You need your beauty sleep – really,"
Said Mum – but that kidded no one!
Before nodding off like good children,
Important arrangements were made:
A drink and a mince pie for Santa;
Not whisky – we'd only limeade!
We giggled, and waited, and giggled
For Santa at last to appear,
But all were asleep, like angels,
Before he got anywhere near.
He'd been, we were sure, next morning,
When we saw, with wild surprise,
Our socks all bulging with presents,
And his teeth-marks left in mince pies!
From the kitchen came smells of cooking,
Of stuffing to go in the bird,
And Mum was all red in the face
From the pudding which had to be stirred.
Dad, being a dad , didn't do much
Before the dinner was ready:
He just went to sleep in front of the fire
'Cos in those days there weren't no telly.
We all enjoyed that fine, big bird
With stuffing and vegs good,
And really we enjoyed it all the more,
Followed by Christmas pud!
It was while we were eating the pudding
Dad choked, alarming in manner:
With red streaming eyes, he cried with surprise,
"Good heavens, I've swallowed a tanner!"
After all the fuss was over,
And Dad regained his calm,
We all cracked open Christmas crackers,
And swapped the lucky charms.
Dad told a Christmas story,
And sang a carol with Mum,
And we'll always remember the Christmas
When Dad had change in his tum!

(from our Christmas magazine of 1970)