by Nick Gisburne
We’ve had a touch of trouble with the toys
But all the eager wishes on your list
The luxuries, for little girls and boys
Are ready now for Christmas, with a twist
The dollies have a drug-addicted grin
A grimace, warning daughters to conform
And fashions made of rugged reindeer skin
Traditional and festive: wormy, warm
A sensible solution for the sons:
Munitions, with a jingle and a bell
No plastic, these are heavy, metal guns
Illegal, lethal, difficult to sell
So tie your tiny terrors to the bed
Unless they want to spend their Christmas dead
