Behold! It is I! The master of pen,
The one who resides night and day in his den,
But today I will write you (and this to my friends)
A specialty script: you must read to the end.
For this year, for Christmas, my pockets are dry,
I cannot afford to set fire to your eye,
With materials least. But ignoring the trends,
I’m writing a poem about my wonderful friends.
The first on my list has a powerful fist,
And isn’t afraid to add lots of twists,
For John is a fighter, his spirit burns strong,
I know from my wounds: his aim’s never wrong.
This next young guy is a sight for the eye,
Especially now that his hair’s gone bye-bye.
Simon’s an ace, he’s funny and bright,
His knowledge of Earth is beyond my sight.
Now look at this lad, you’ll surely be glad,
He likes to play PES (and god, he ain’t bad!)
Cormac, it seems, is the only I’ve seen,
Who’s wrapped up my presents with old magazines!
We now come to Piers, the pwnage on CS,
Who drives in style (or he will) in large seven-seaters,
His laptop is pro, and his computer more so,
If it beats Will’s, it’s far from being slow.
And now for the final, for I’m running dry now,
She’s friendly and pretty and she’s rarely down.
Karen’s a light in everyone’s day,
She’ll help who she wants, and asks for no pay.
And so the poem has come to an end,
And so all is left to say:
Is an old phrase we use that’s rather cliché,
But merry Christmas, and a happy New Year’s Day!
*For my best friends, John, Simon, Cormac, Piers and Karen*
Kieran McQuire
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-money-for-christmas-who-cares/
