OK. How about this then?
Bah Humbug
At Christmas time we peddle junk
Wrapped up in old religious bunk
And everyone gets very drunk.
At Christmas time my children write
To some old bearded blatherskite
And stay up half the bloody night.
At Christmas time the in-laws come
To drink my whisky, gin and rum
And quarrel with my dad and mum.
At Christmas time my joints are stiff.
They crack and creak. I cough and sniff
And spit into my handkerchief.
At Christmas time my belly vastly
Swells, my temper frays and, lastly,
The weather’s uniformly ghastly.
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