Pheasant

Christmas time is full of cheer

But it only comes once a year.

Families fighting over turkey bones

Makes a change to the bitching moans

That fill these silent halls sometimes,

So let’s fill them with mistletoe and rhymes

To hide our guilt. It is a poor present

To wrap a partridge or a pheasant

And give it to your dad, but it is better

Than what he gave you last year. A letter

Left on the floor, the slamming of the door,

Full of sad sentiments but you want more,

But it only comes once a year

So make the most of it.