Barely Crimbo by Graham Wynd

GRAHAM WYND

Here it is barely Grimace;

Time to deck the malls.

Wish you a hairy crossbus;

Fall down all the golden balls.

Hark the Harold angles bring

Glory to the edge-lord bling.

Dashing through the pub,

With a one-horse foamy ale,

Oh, what fun it is to slide

Through tat that’s cheap on sale.

Olé.

Grimble bells, Batman tells,

Robin to get stuffed.

Mangles we have heard on high,

Sweetly sleeping rough.

Glo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o’Rhea

For that Galileo.

 

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  1. Pingback: That Was the Year That Was – K. A. Laity

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