T'was the week before Christmas, when all through the house,
Stress levels were building, in especially one spouse.
The tree was adorned with collected old balls,
By a child who was frightened of dropping them all.
And a control freaky mum who likes things just so,
Tried to make it fun, but failed at it though.
The stocking was hung by the gas flue with care,
In hopes that the stocking fillers fit into there,
The boys were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of tuna cans danced in their heads.
The gift wrap and tape were all over the floor,
While list after list and another list more,
Were hastily written, just as soon to be lost,
In piles of crap that should be in the loft.
Internet shopping will save us some time.
On occasions like this, almost wish I drank wine,
But hear me exclaim as I crash for the night,
''Merry Christmas to all who are reading this sh*te!''