‘Twas the last Saturday
before Christmas,
and a panic ensued,
a present for his mother,
even though she’s so rude;
you dive into Smiths,
lacking Xmas inspiration,
you come out carrying
others’ foul perspiration.
Instead buy a scarf,
from the crap-gift store,
but such selfless endeavour
doesn’t bring you rewards.
You’re home, empty-handed,
so knock back the red wine,
after all it’s Christmas,
you’re meant to unwind.
Open Ebay, hit ‘Search’,
and find her an online gift,
Christmas has been sorted,
now forget the old bitch.