Christmas Parties Poem by Roy Ballard

Did I ever tell you I'm frightened of parties,
of all those bright people and heavyweight hearties?
Well I am. Now it's Christmas, I'm trying to find
how to go to these functions and keep peace of mind;
to wake up clear-headed and free of disgrace
for something I did or I said out of place.
I shall try to come late; I shall tarry an hour
go straight to the hostess and give her a flower
and say she looks lovely; her party's the best;
the buffet delicious; I love every guest;
I've been here for ages; that's what I shall say
I am having such fun. Then I'll leave straightaway.
Or perhaps I'll come early and drink all the punch;
snog somebody sexy and bring up my lunch.
I'll drink upside down on my hands in the hall
and eat twelve mince pies using no hands at all
I'll break into song then I'll ski down the stairs;
stunt roll from a window till everyone stares
and says 'did that happen? ' or 'is this a dream? '
then I'll lick off the hostess, well covered in cream.