Christmas day at Mother’s
A crowd, to say the least
It needed expert planning
To prepare the mighty feast
When we tried to count them
There were twenty-five or more
Some were cooking, Some were playing,
Some were prostrate on the floor.
There were taties in the roasting pan
And taties on the boil
The turkey, ready basted
Was covered up in foil
The brussel sprouts and carrots
Prepared the night before
Got mistaken for the peelings
And we had to do some more.
The pork was in the Yorkshire range
With crackling on the top
The parsnips in a paper bag
(We’d left them in the shop)
The pudding it was pressure cooked
With lots of fruit and peel in
When all at once the valve shot off
And pudding hit the ceiling.
The custard went all lumpy
But with blender at the ready
Mother made it smooth again
While we held t’bucket steady.
Dad was pouring out the wine
A lot went down his throat
Some said they saw him even pour some
In the gravy boat.
We toasted everybody
“Glad tidings and good cheer”
And after that we all agreed
We’d stay at home next year.