An unoriginal festive poem

There’s not much that’s new about Christmas;

There’s plenty of not new to tell:

But I’m growing quite fond of old things - 

I’m growing quite old as well. 

There’s not much that’s new about New Year;

It’s already old when it’s new;

But I don’t mind that, after all

They say I was too.

Looking Awkward to Christmas

A Christmas Poem in Seven Ers

Er…

Twas the night before morning

And all through the place

Was the presence of regular 

Geometrical space.

Er…

Twas the night before morning 

And all through the… locality

Were spots with a definite 

Geometricallity. 

Er…

Twas the night before morning - 

12.09, if you prefer. 

Not a creature was stirring

Except those that were.

Er…

Twas the night before morning, 

And then probably day :

Time continued to hold its

Chronological sway. 

Er…

It was night. And then morning. 

And there was a spot. 

It might have had creatures, 

But then, it might not. 

Er…

And then comes a man

With a bowlful of… jello?

(Or should it be egg nog?)

Red, green and yellow. 

Er…

Whatever it is 

Or whatever it might 

Whatever is wrong 

Or is maybe… not right,

To all, merry Christmas 

(etc) and 

GOOD NIGHT.