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May all your capitalism be Snow covered
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Poems 1001 dinners cooking,
nobody any the wiser why (some old Dude, apparently!)
Uncle Phil’s hit the Brandy.
Grandma’s having another Mince Pie.
The presents are all open,
they lie on the side forgotten (Television’s regained it’s appeal.)
And Dad’s just got it in the neck,
When Mum found out the Veggies are rotten!
