I never thought the day would come,
But didn't find surprise,
The symmetry on dates like this,
A present it becries!
The twenty fith and honoured day,
Of twelve and twenty five,
Falls thick in pleasant places now,
Becomes to me a prize.

Erupting in this poorly concealed laugh,
A snigger and a cackle at your jest,
Turn quickly to the sternest mouth of food,
And hood your eyes until you've had the rest,
For merry madness tends to fill the ears,
Then seasons brilliant veg though it arrests.

Animated arms in the Christmas lights,
A spatter of cool white under the encompassing yellows,
Few brightnesses scatter at the side,
They stand round to watch the generations,
Gathered together in the Christmas lights.

Gorgeous food,
And gorgeous friends,
Sit around me at the table,
Some battered and bruised,
But for the meanwhile happy and stable,
Others ready to love,
And sprinkle some salty salt,
And shine some gracious light,
For a high priest stands with the bruised in his sight,
And the awestruck lovers in his heart.