'Twas the night before Christmas

The Home Counties version

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
Yes, even the mice in their holes slumbered deep
While the people were snuggled in beds, fast asleep

When the silence was split by a sound on the roof
Just the tiniest scratch, like the step of a hoof
And then scuffles and murmurs that might just suggest
That a person was squeezing down our chimney breast

From the living room hearth a loud scream rent the air
Clearly someone had found the bear trap I'd left there
So to any strange men who break in, let's be clear:
You've been warned how we deal with trespassers here

Merry Christmas

A Petrarchan sonnet on the British Airways strike

A strike! No festive spirit for this crew
Twelve days of Christmas walkouts we await
Just anguished travellers at each departure gate
Delays and cancellations all accrue
The war of words in press breaks out anew
The union and managers recriminate
While passengers are left to meet their fate
Now all of their vacation plans are screwed
And if both sides persist to bluff and fob
They’ll kill the goose that lays the golden egg
If BA can’t plug their financial hole
They’ll end up bust and all will lose their job
Thus both sides for a compromise should beg
For all are equal queuing for the dole