
Is beer served at Oktoberfest
So different from all the rest?
For, I would like to know what goes in
To make dudes wear lederhosen
light verse and much, much worse

Is beer served at Oktoberfest
So different from all the rest?
For, I would like to know what goes in
To make dudes wear lederhosen

While sailors open drums of rum
To swig below the decks
Indulgent captains who succumb
Are often found in wrecks

The day before The Night Before
Their workplace turned into a store
With gifts galore from Santa’s stock
At lunchtime, right on one o’clock.
A furtive glance across the room
As someone tried to wrap perfume.
A figure hunched behind a fern
(the new girl had a lot to learn)
A friend will cough to help a mate
Disguise the sound of Sellotape
Shirley’s eyes revealed a glint
Each time she dropped another hint.
In knowing just what not to tell
She kept the weak under her spell.
And Andy, bless him, the poor dear
Just hoped he’d get it right this year.
For Sue, who longed for something French
He’d bought a Jean-Paul Gautier wrench.
Old Davey Wilcox saved a packet
Who thought the whole idea a racket.
His gifts were met with trepidation
Bought in the local petrol station.
All dreams of wintry escapades
Were dashed by half-price wiper blades
Still, pity those who drew Pru’s name
The dowager who ran the game
And claimed the true meaning had gone
Then priced her gift on Amazon.
Big Tony came to stuff his face
So ate at an alarming pace
Before they wrapped it up for Luke
Whose wife was just as bad a cook.
Stollen, edam, Toblerone
Belgian nougat in a cone
Baby Jesus, Heaven sent
Now came via the continent.
I’ve seen several scars happen
Over a slice of marzipan
Paper plates now put aside
Each festive tummy satisfied
Fiona stood to give a toast
But belched up Captain Morgan’s ghost.
So, Lenny then began to lift
And sift until he found his gift
50 ml of CK One
Would do quite nicely for his son.
Ooh, it’s lovely… that’s so sweet!
As girls are wont to coo and tweet
With every present they unwrap
And coddle gently in their lap.
Which makes guys pause and think a bit:
This Santa thing’s made me a hit
That perfume seemed to animate her
I’ll say ‘hi’ at the laminator!
So, Merry Christmas one and all
Be pleased you got a gift at all.
Enjoy that glass of Triple Sec
In your new purple turtle neck!

The day I want to bake some bread
You’ll be the first to know
Were you confused that time I said
I need to make more dough?
And should I wish to buy a goat
Around the holidays
Feel free to name it but take note
I’d like it honey-glazed.
A scented candle lets me know
Exactly what you think
You’re hoping when it’s all aglow
At last, my house won’t stink.
That weird liqueur with toads inside
Distilled by monks in France
Soon made me wish that I had died
Then made me shit my pants.
The Cookie Monster sweater seemed
To spread more disarray
On seeing it, the baby screamed
And both cats ran away.
Gym memberships address excess
With weights or on a mat
Do you think I need to de-stress
Or is it that I’m fat?
It’s not the gift, John, it’s the thought
While this, no doubt, is right
It’s what they’ve thought, not what they’ve bought
Which keeps me up at night.

The pessimist with half a glass
Sees no point being gleeful
While optimists will always ask
If theirs comes with a refill
I wouldn’t write whilst drunk
Because those thoughts we’ve sometimes thunk
Mixed with suspicions twice distilled
Much like one’s drink, ought not be spilled