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(A Christmas poem.)
Mr. McCurtain lives 3 doors down,
He’s the grumpiest man in the whole town
He lives on my street at Number nine
And in his window he has a sign,
It says, “Happy people leave me be
I’m happy on my own you see.
I especially do not care for
Happy Children knocking upon my door,
But there is one time, I must confess
That I like Children even less.
So I would like you all to remember
Especially, not to come round in the month of December,
Because I really, really can’t abide
Happy Children during Yuletide.
They tend to come round then
Preaching peace and Goodwill to all men
And before I get to say “I have no interest
In doing these things that you suggest
They start singing carols at me
And I wish they’d just let me be.
So I, to them are really rude,
Although I must admit this makes me feel good,
Cause the little tykes then start to cry
And then they’ll never again ever come by.
So if you want to spare them this torment
Make sure knocking on my door, is not their intent.”
And believe me this is good advice
As Mr. McCurtain really is not nice.
And there is one thing that I am certain
Scrooge had nothing on Mr. McCurtain.
So don’t go thinking there’ll be a happy ending,
About cold hearts that soon will be mending
As it will take more than 3 Ghosts
To turn Mr. McCurtain into one of those happy hosts.
Paul H Tubb
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