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'I'm fed up looking like Father Christmas,'Muttered Father Christmas one year.'I need a new outfit. I must move with the times.
His name is called and there's a pause
just long enough to halt a war
tame timber wolves and trim their claws
hide diamonds in a secret drawer
There she was on the news,Miss Goody Two Shoescaught on CCTV.
Don't look so shocked.Of course you know who – who else but Goldilocks!
I like to stay upand listenwhen big people talkingjumbie stories
I does feelso tingly and excitedinside me
But when my mother say“Girl, time for bed”
He's the Keepy-Uppy Kid.
We're the Mafia catsBugsy, Franco and ToniWe're crazy for pizzaWith hot pepperoni
One was beautiful, silken hair to her waistand dutiful, kept it neatly in place.Please and Thanks were words she’d use.
The living room remembers Gran dancing to Count Bessie.The kitchen can still hear my aunts fighting on Christmas Day.The hall is worried about the loose banister.
In our flatfaces speakof places across the sea.
In our flatvoices walk intalking, but not like me.
Don't be so glum,plum.
Don't feel beaten.
You were made to be eaten.