Happy Christmas From Worksop

Happy Christmas From Worksop

Brides and grooms and wedding guests

Priests exorcising souls possessed

Young bucks come down from Inverness

Folks seeing their grannies laid to rest

Burlesque queens before they’ve undressed

They all turn up in their Sunday best

Beneath they wear just pants and vests

But even knickers leave me unimpressed

As compared to a singlet there’s no contest

These words are true though you think I jest

I’ve an old one I keep in the back

Of my antique hanging garment rack

Pure cotton but it looks like sack

Led Zeppelin written on it in black

Makes me look cool and dead laid-back

But it gives my missus a heart attack

When I’m wearing it all I get is flak

She says it’s worse than demoniac

I’m the spit of a crusty hooked on crack

I should cover it up with my anorak

Or my Uncle Stanley’s dirty mac

She donated it to the lifeboats shop

As far from home as the bus would stop

She went in the dark so friends wouldn’t kop

Her with my raggy ancient rock band top

The assistant asked if she’d like to swap

It for a Boyzone mug or a lone flip-flop

Or a one-careful-owner Vileda mop

Ashamed she then ran home nonstop

To find me in my swish tank-top

That says ‘Happy Christmas from Worksop’

Image:

This is my own photograph, but I must confess, it’s someone else’s flip-flop.