‘TIS THE SEASON

Every year it’s just the same

I don’t want to play the game

Buy her this, send him that

Christmas stocking for the cat

Costly presents for the spoiled

Greasing wheels already oiled

Will he like it? Will she use it?

(If they could, would they refuse it?)

Write the cards! Bake the cake!

Trim the tree for pity's sake!

Decorate the whole damn place

Caught up in this fool’s rat-race

Shopping malls with loathsome glitz

Bratty children throwing fits

Disco carols from unctuous choirs

Plastic trees! Electric fires!

Spent too much or not enough?

(Surely no one needs this stuff!)

Where’s the meaning? Where’s the love?

Too much hard-sell, push-and-shove!

Christmas day:   the TVs blare

The bellies bloat, the children stare

The wrapping paper piles up high

The children quarrel, the parents sigh

…Every year it’s just the same

I don’t want to play the game

Still, I play it – yes, I do

Merry Christmas to you, too