‘Twas Christmas in the shopping mall, the lights were burning bright,
As throngs of grim-faced shoppers, went trudging through the night,
With bags of Christmas chocolate bars and trees of cerise pink,
And Christmas bags of wrapping foil, and the bloody kitchen sink.
There were biscuit tins for grandma, and a pipe for Aunty Doris,
A bubble bath for Little Flo and a bra for Cousin Morris,
There was a mega bag of Chrimbo cards and pile of Christmas stamps,
A Play Station drum and guitar, and a stack of fender amps.
And underneath the mistletoe, some groping was going on,
‘Twas Dad and Mrs Amersham, who lives beyond the Don,
And all the shoppers roll their eyes and look towards God’s heaven,
Then rush off to the next gift shop, the bloody market shuts at seven.
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