Letter of the week: All I want for Christmas are a mobile phone and a golden setter
Mam, will he come, won't he come.
And did you post our letters?
Will I get my big red bike,
My mobile phone and golden setter?
When the children’s heads start rolling,
And eyelids just fail the test,
It’s time to guide them up the stairs,
And lay their heads to rest.
Stockings over the end of the bed,
Not tucked away in a shoe.
But just in case he misses one,
They’re over the fire guard too.
Down the stairs on the kitchen table,
A cup of tea and half eaten pie.
In the sitting-room around the fire,
Mum and dad breathe out a great sigh.
Then starts a frenzy of searching around,
And a “good heavens! Where did we hide it?”
On top of the wardrobe, under the bed,
In the cellar, the attic or garden shed?
“Did we really buy one?”
The clock strikes 12 and all is done,
Stockings filled with lots of fun.
A merry Christmas and a little kiss,
Then off to bed and a few hours of bliss.