T'was the night before Christmas,
and all over the farm,
nothing was stirring
~ a quiet eerie calm

No squawk from a goose,
no gobbling Turkey
They’re both stuffed and trussed,
just awaiting the gravy

No moo from the steer
~ that great thumping geezer
You won't hear him now,
from the back of our freezer

The silence of the lambs,
who along with mint sauce,
we’ve had chopped with our chips,
without trace of remorse

And the ewes and the rams,
after hectic conception
Chew a post coital cud,
in relaxed contemplation

The children have finished,
decking the tree with it’s bling
And lay dreaming of goodies,
that tomorrow may bring

Leaving old Farmer Christmas,
tying sacks on bedsteads
And mumbling ‘Bah Humbug’,
as he stomps off to bed