Today’s poem

DON’T WANT MUCH THIS YEAR

I don’t want a sweater I don’t want socks I don’t want cufflinks In a box. I don’t want slippers For my feet, I don’t want chocolates As a treat. I don’t want pants With my name in red, Don’t want pyjamas To wear in bed. Don’t buy me books — I’ve a library full, Don’t buy me a hat That’s made from wool. Don’t buy me a knife With 20 blades, Don’t buy me expensive, Top-notch shades. Don’t buy me a shirt With tie to match, Or aftershave that Makes me scratch. I don’t want a rod — I’ve quite a few. Don’t buy me a kit To make home brew. Don’t buy me a watch To tell the time, My old Pulsar will Do me fine. A set of clubs Doesn’t interest me, Or loads of presents On the tree. I’ve got most things I’ll ever need. A wife, two sons, A cat to feed. Don’t buy me tools With which to botch — Just buy me a bottle Of 12-year-old Scotch. Slainte! Christopher S. Mills, Oswestry, Shropshire.

...andLimerick

Remember how Bing used to croon His dream of a White Christmas tune? Does this sudden tundra We find ourselves under Suggest that it’s happened too soon? Robert Ben-Nathan, Denham, Bucks.