Princes Street Shopping

Two days before Christmas, drag myself out of bed,
Got to get presents for Aunty Ethel & Uncle Fred,
Roses for my mother, chocolate for my dad,
Toys for the nieces, that drive me bloody mad.
So I brave the crowds and scout the shops,
Christmas jumpers, Christmas socks,
Psycho mothers, in a rush,
Screaming children, trying to push,
Primark’s heaving, Lush is worse,
Woman in front of me’s, lost her purse.
The big wheel’s turning, traffic’s jammed,
Princes’ market, possessed by the damned.
Buy a marshmallow, on a stick,
Hand over a tenner, feel quite sick,
Christmas carols, blaring loud,
I’m being carried, by the crowd.
Get on a bus, pay my fare,
Get a ticket, to anywhere,
End up in Musselburgh, lost and cold,
Still clutching the presents, I’ve been sold,
But I lose the roses, while I roam,
Eat the chocolates, before I get home,
My carrier’s been leaking, I’ve lost my stuff,
Think my relatives, will throw a huff.
So I count my money, in my den,
Then gird my loins, and start again.

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved