O Holly and Ivy
they are both in full moan
No Christmas tree for them because
the delivery man let them down

O the disappointment  of the sales
of hangovers undeserved
Don’t leave your curtains open
for the next door neighbour perves

Our neighbour is called Blossom
so white with nausea
She polished off the Prosecco
then threw up on our rug

O the horror of our relatives
and the misery of mince pies
Not so bad when you’re eating them,
but they end up on one’s thighs