The Night Before Christmas


Twas the night before Christmas, and all on the farm
People were arguing, is it breadcake or barm
Some from the east, and some from the west
But none could decide which bread was the best

It’s very important to know by the morning
For when Christmas comes and the day begins dawning
All in our jumpers and ready to eat
We must know for sure that our sandwich is reet

So is it a muffin, a bun or a breadcake
Is it a roll, a stottie or teacake
Forget it, to the kitchen, quick as a flash
I’m having my Christmas bap with a bowl full of hash

Forget Christmas sandwiches, it’s too stressful a job
Trying to work out if my sarnie’s a cob
Now they’re all arguing ’bout the name of my brew
It’s not hash they exclaim, but a bowlful of stew

Well we call it scouse and eat it with pickle
No it’s a pottage, or soup if you’re fickle
I know what it’s called, you’re all wrong you lot
Veggie it’s a broth, with meat it’s an hot-pot

Enough of this nonsense, I’m off up to bed
To hide from you all, put down my sore head
Every single year dialect leads us to a fight
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

Copyright D M Day, 2016

2 responses »

  1. I love this, I love the simplicity and the rhythm. For a non poet like me that’s a big statement! thanks for finding my humble offerings and blog xxxx

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