Christmas Eve I had to bid
Didn't want to but I did
I won't get it that I know
2010 oh here we go
Home to a letter from the Leader's Lady
How I've read it: "Stuff you baby"
They'll give no flat to my little son
They care not for my boy when all's said and done
(Alas I can't write poems for toffee
Or crumpets or for coffee
But not for that I'll choose to stop
Not while I have dear ol' blogspot!
You have been warned, and so have I
Stigmum doesn't give a fly
ing fairy cake)
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