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Skinless sausages the dead lie frozen whole Bedded in sensible rows like seeds
Fur-white wrappers turf them over but it’s still too cold They won’t grow in this weather
Coal for eyes, Brillo-frosted mittens and stiff neck scarf Snowman is sat sad sobbing
“What a place to build a snowman,” he sobs to himself
“Hark the herald angels sing,” he sings and sobs to himself.
You see, snowman did not enjoy Christmas
Because he knew he would only ever have one Christmas And stuck in this miserable place at Christmas
Just made it the worse one Christmas.
Maybe we should consider holding Christmas somewhere else For this snowman at least.
November 8, 2014