Sunday 8 December 2019

The Bloody Christmas Cake

by Nick Gisburne

It’s Christmas, how dismal, how cheerless, how fake
But this year I’m making my own Christmas cake
The oven is ready, I’ve drunk all the gin
So let’s check the list of the things I’ve put in

The leg of a neigbour, chopped off at the knee
Embalmed in a bucket of gravy and tea
The lips of a cousin who would not be hushed
The teeth from his petulant wife, finely crushed

A long middle finger, cracked off with a snap
Its owner died yesterday, caught in my trap
Two rosy cheeks, boiled in fresh tears for good luck
Four eyeballs, they’re always a challenge to pluck

A sprinkling of toes from the nephew I hate
His head I’ve reserved for my centre-piece plate
Intestines, a tender and savoury crop
So hard to know when to add more, when to stop

A scalp full of hair from an old woman’s head
I’m lucky to have it - she’s seven months dead
Four finger-bones, trapped by the edge of a door
A harvest of toe-nails, swept up from the floor

The spleen from a friend who invited himself
Some dried flakes of skin from the medicine shelf
The heart of an in-law, who won’t need it back
I’m shocked it’s so red, I assumed it was black

Fresh larynx of screaming child I could not find
The mother won’t visit, the drugs make her blind
The father dropped in but he won’t be home soon
I pulled out his kidneys with strings and a spoon

The balls from an uncle who no-one will miss
He stunk of stale vomit, old cabbage and piss
And grandfather’s liver, for flavour and taste
We can’t let a lifetime of booze go to waste

A mixture of knee-caps and noses and bones
Their owners all addicts of selfies and phones
A pinch of appendix, a handful of veins
The one thing I couldn’t find fresh was good brains

Black tar, to give all this an overnight soak
From grandma’s old lungs and their 60-year smoke
There’s gallons of blood and a pint of fresh spit
It’s mixed and it’s cooking and here I now sit

You’re welcome to try it, I’ll cut you a slice
And do try the pink skin and tonic, with ice
This Christmas is special, but please stay awake
Or you’ll become part of my next Christmas cake