This week we've been looking at numbers and feeling all festive. Not all of you? Well I have. Yesterday I rewrote the twelve days of Christmas with Lara (available on the DGPS facebook wall I think) and today, in the same- ooh, I'll make a poem mindset- I've created another one for you all. I feel it is equally cynical, as all Christmas poems should be so without further adieu, here it is.
Christmas Poem #2
Whilst bankers guard their pots by night
all brimming full of goldThe rest of us are set to watchon telly, in the cold.For times like these have been a squeezeboth up and down the landI don't suppose that Davey knowsHe's been out to Helmand.In quick like Santa, he whistlestoppedand gave a half arsed speechSomething about the job being doneno 'fight them on the beach'!But jobs are up the figures saylook at this aggregateErm, Davey boy, there's more peopleyour sack is full of shit. So this Christmas I'd like to askjust like the one beforeIf Cameron, dressed as fat St Nickwould stop by my front door.I'll help him with his list for coaladd on a million moreI'm sure there'll be no greater giftthan Dave helping the poor.Thanks for reading, and merry Christmas to you all. S.