by Flavia Vanilla 'Twas New Year's Eve in the market The New Year had yet to unfold Old Father Time had a smile sublime He'd got a good price for the old. Christmas turkeys were selling half price Which was rather more than they should Mountains of stuffing could be bought for nothing And they were paying the crowd to take pud. King Wenceslas passed by and said "What on earth is the date today? I set out, at least, on St Stephen's Feast But I seem to have lost my way." A stall holder looked very sad as he said "I'm sorry to tell you, Mate, For Christmas cheer, you're too early next year And for this year, you're too bloody late." Most people had come to buy symbols For seeing the New Year in A portion of gruel and an item of fuel A candle and wine by the bin. A lady who asked for a piece of coal, Caused quite a stir because She said, "It comes in a sack, and it's dirty and black." But no one could think what it was. The market closed up its doors to trade At twelve o' clock precisely But it was nice to think that purveyors of drink Were still doing very nicely. Everyone sang some of 'Auld Lang Syne' Well, the part they could remember Which was more than all of them could recall Of the last few hours of December. On New Year's Day the postman struck He'd delivered seven swans that day After trees and rings and birds and things All with excess postage to pay. The Post Office manager, he explained When the postman could be found That drummers and ladies; lords, pipers, and maidies Could all help him out with his round. Moving from one year on to the next Can be mentally and physically tough Like being hearty at a Christmas party I think I've had more than enough.
The end