Boxing Day Poem by Chris Goss

The festival night last eve was jolly and fabulous
A popping bottle of Champagne
How mix of men and women behave
Twenty something spanning to eighties
Some of them deemed to be deities
Other in panic and certainly frantic
The atmosphere gloriously fantastic
Spinning leaves for green orange and yellow
Depending on the narration of the fellow
The free timing elation was true to behold
When the opportunity would unfold
To progress their cause gaining colour
With some gravity and opposite candour
The winning post appearing so near
Another narration of the fellow
As to win, for all to be challenged
The winners would have to call
The win was called in finale
A repeat mixed up different crews
The target now was still not to lose
Even though half this time, like football
It kind of turned out the spoils where shared
All concerned where happily contented
Because no jibe was intended
The hilarity reached was so splendid
Unsure nervously tempted
Some earnestly spoken so well
So their kin could answer and tell
The progression finished with a bell
One who's the nervous one
Another who was the queen of the snow
One who checked authority over all
One who was assured of vocal song
Young gun supplying amber nectar
And the bell ringer on occasion was drunk
The host of this scribe happy jive life joy
And the occasion was true living
Because really it is giving, but not presents
The Christmas Dinner was passable
And the entire affair was just simply enjoyable
But no alcohol will any more consumed
To quell the torment that I constantly abhor
I do doubt that the tide will not turn, only if in an urn
And it seems that I am taciturn
Because my brain is trained on pain
My life is just such stressful drain
No wonder the alcohol was entertaining
Drugs and referrals never reaching
So medical staff cannot be impeaching