There was a young man of the Isthmus
who just wouldn’t celebrate Christmas.
He said, ‘Rising tides in the sea on both sides
make the Isthmus too wet to have Christmas.’
A fossilised ichthyosaurus
joined in when we carolled the chorus.
She mumbled the verses and what’s even worse is
she sang them in ichthyosaurus.
I ám an old merchant of Hockenheim
who didn’t supply any stockings. I’m
embarrassed to say I’m the reason that they
have no stockings for Christmas in Hockenheim.
There was a young lass of Duntroon
who for Advent would play the bassoon.
As the dates went up higher she’d forget to respire,
so by Christmas her face was maroon.
A teenager working the till
had many requests to fulfil.
When asked about grout, she said, ‘We’ve sold out,
but I’ll ring up our store in Brazil.’
A fir tree from somewhere near Allentown
desired to live as a Tannenbaum:
‘I feel less provincial when spangled with tinsel.
They don’t understand me in Allentown.’