Compliments of the Sheason

We’re scheated round a table

all the kidsch and me.

My head’s scho heavy

donno how I’m going to be.

We’re making a schtable and cards

from larsht years, you schee.

I call it reschlicalling, hick.

Oh, and I’ve yet to do the chree.

There’s glue on the cat’sh paws

glitter on doggies arshe

I’m not feeling very scheasonal

eh! don’t knock over my glarsh.

Very nearly finished now.

Thatsh it, put rubbish in a pile.

Should do more shopping

we’ll go in a little while.

Schtanding up I fall down

try to grip a chair.

Dog schnarls from underneath

and I don’t bloody care.

It’sh all too much.

Have another little drink

then start the preparashuns

clearing dishes in the shrink.

Firsht I’ll schtart the bird off

then I’ll do the schtuffing.

Oh schtrutting butting

why’s that cat woofing?

Oh goody, Cooking Fat’s

schtuck to the kitchen table.

Tail flailing the schtickey-on bits

left over from making the schtable.

Now, if I was still schober

I’d know the perfect antidut.

Rub schalt into his furry feet

and pepper schpray the mut.

But, no, it’sh never so easy.

Stuff compliments of the scheason

right now I’m only intereshted

in condiments for some reashon.