Race/
We race to Christmas
Then we race to New Year's Eve
Then race back to work
We race through our lives
Never noticing the crowd
To die exhausted
January sales
Spending what we do not have
The poverty race
Slow down Haiku friends
Let your minds free wheel in joy
Peace to our poor world
(Race Not)
Baby
Baby in manger
A bright star shines overhead
The Magi bow down
I don't mean maybe
Oh yes sir, she's my baby
She's my baby now
(Apols to Gus Kahn, 1925)
Little baby peas
So much sweeter than fat ones
A marketing ploy
Shout
Its your shout Angus
Time to remove the cobwebs
From your sporran, mate
Shout from the rooftops
This poor world deserves some peace
Let's work together
Christmas morn, early
Squeals of delight, shouts of joy
Santa left us sacks
No comments:
Post a Comment