Yuletide poetry

Discussion in 'Poetry Corner' started by Mighty_doh_nut, Dec 11, 2005.

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  1. The festive season looms again
    pressies to wrap and cards to pen
    Lets 'do' Santa with a 9 mil Sten
    or bright and shiney fcuk off Bren

    I hate the cnut he makes me spend
    And every bastard wants to lend
    Misery at donuts house is the trend
    when will this cnuting season end

    You end up getting fcuk all you like
    Sooner suffer a lightning strike
    I want a big bitching motorbike
    not a desk tidy with flashing lights

    Leave me alone with your festive cheer
    I'll sit alone with a crate of beer
    Tele programmes over run with queers
    lance the bastards on blunted spears

    I hate Chrimbo its over rated
    for this poem I'll be berated
    So with all your mothers I have mated
    Tied them up and fornicated, and over thier heads masterbated

    Your prezzies from me, a mum full of cream
    It is infact my yuletide dream
    Shortfuses mother she did scream
    So I stoved her head in with a shovel ( but it had mistletoe on it :D)

    Anyone else as bored as I am this morning :D :D :D
  2. Santa comes but once a year
    Bet Dale catches it in her arse-hole though ......... :D

    I know it doesn't rhyme but its topical
  3. With a smiling face full of joy and glee
    The family put up the Christmas tree

    Danger popped in and around the corner
    wandered our sad lonely little jack horner
    and fondled the children, Brian and Lorna

    Lets not destroy Chrimbo its happy and gay
    Gods planned a Tsunami for Boxing Day
    pressies and family all swept away
    Really good of the bloke, makes me want to pray

    Celebrate the Birth of the Lord our Christ
    By making the tiddlies pay the price
    a kind of religous sacrifice

    Gods a cnut its all a stitch
    Vicars and Padres, they're all his bitch
    I'm more likely to worship Grotbags the witch
    but I'm not bitter, not one bit.
  4. When are you off to sing carols to the OAPs? I'm sure if you ask nicely the staff will give you some soiled bedding to suck on... :D
  5. I must be a heathen and a sinner
    Judas scoffed my christmas dinner
    I'd rather suck off Michael Winner
    Then tickle Herods hairy grinner
    Than sit with the happy bunch of cnuts that come to my house and drink all my fcuking booze on Christmascnutingday

  6. Saw this, couldn't resist
  7. In southern oceans I do sit,
    But I lie not in my pit,
    for Crimbo cards for poor orphans I do write,
    to jeer and laugh at their plight,
    for in this festive time,
    mummy and daddy are dead and laying in lime.
  8. Christmas Greetings from a festive romancer
    Wishing you arthritis, Bullemia and a good dose of cancer
    Climbing on Rudolph and chewing off Prancer
    Before getting raped by a Queens royal Lancer
  9. The lights are up around the town,
    The weather has got shiitty,
    The shops have got their trees put up,
    It all looks very pretty,
    The children smile and jump about,
    Their faces flushed and red,
    For Christmas time is here again,
    The time of year I dread.

    There is no peace within my heart,
    No magic in my soul,
    If the baby Jesus was alive,
    I'd throw him down a hole,
    I'd kick the Holy Mother's cnut,
    Shove Joseph up her arrse,
    If I could save this blessed earth,
    From this stupid yearly farce.

    For each and every single year,
    That I can still remember,
    I've had to bear this awful crap,
    Beginning in November,
    And finishing sometime in June,
    When I can take no more,
    Of finding giftwrap in my shoes,
    And needles on my floor.

    It starts with that forsaken task,
    Of compiling lists of presents,
    For all my 'dearly cherished kin',
    That bunch of fcuking peasants.
    The bsatard rellies bleed me dry,
    They do it every year,
    Whilst sniggering amongst themselves,
    It right gives me the fear.

    Like witches in a firey cave,
    Their lists already writ,
    They cackle strangely as they buy,
    Huge piles of awesome shiit,
    A nasty jumper? Dreadful socks?
    All sizes way too titchy,
    Or maybe some cheap aftershave,
    Just to make my skin all itchy.

    Poison sweets from some shop,
    Where all things cost a quid,
    Revolting slippers, fearsome red,
    Handmade by some blind flid,
    Or ghastly biscuits in a tin,
    That taste a lot like soap,
    Which I'd rather cook my cock than eat,
    Or beat myself with rope.

    And when the presents, still unwrapped,
    Are safely in the bin,
    On Christmas morning, half asleep,
    Yet half piissed-up on gin,
    I'll go about the business,
    Of preparing a great feast,
    For fifteen hundred people,
    I care not for in the least.

    The turkey is a wretched bird,
    Its flesh brings me no mirth,
    And sprouts could be the foulest thing,
    E'er dug up from this earth.
    Melon balls are tastless filth,
    They irk my constitution,
    I'd rather fork my eye balls out,
    Or take up male prostitution.

    Christmas pudding can fcuk off,
    And crackers don't amuse me,
    And sherry trifle's not that great,
    (Unless it's really boozy),
    And Christmas telly's utter shiete,
    Please drown me in a pond,
    Instead of forcing me, again,
    To watch James ******* Bond.

    And in the corner of the room,
    You know what there will be,
    Bedecked with lights and bits of shiete,
    There stands the Christmas tree.
    A fcuking tree,
    A fcuking tree,
    Indoors. It isn't sane,
    It spreads its needles far and wide,
    To bring my poor feet pain.

    So if by chance you pass me by,
    At some point in December,
    I'd kindly ask you this one thing -
    I hope you'll please remember,
    Don't wish me 'Happy Christmas'
    Because Yuletide is but a farce,
    And I'll grab the nearest sodding Christmas tree,
    And ram it up your arrse (backwards) :lol:

    Bah Humbug!!
  10. Christmas is coming, MDN is still getting fat,
    Please put a bung in Dales gopping slack tw.at,
    If you haven’t got a bung then a bin lid will do,
    If you haven’t got a bin lid then only a blob will save you.

    Christmas is coming, the lights are on the tree,
    Trolly’s got her stockings on and posted for all to see,
    Decorate your spruce with tinsel and a bauble or two,
    Then top your tree with our resident pigmy RTFQ

    Christmas is coming, the season of good cheer,
    Let's all sing a carol whilst fingering ourselves up the rear,
    If you haven't got a carol, a jolly song will do;
    As you pull that finger out and seasonal skiff with the poo!
  11. In this time of Yuletide cheer,
    Cait's suitors come from far and near,
    A furtive tap comes at the door,
    and a brown envelope falls to the floor,
    A grubby fiver it does hold,
    To buy the keys to Cait's browneye bold,
    And grimy claws scratch at the letter,
    For cash in hand is all the better,
    For a Welsh taxi drivers group,
    To dig out all night on fair Cait's hoop...
  12. Christmas comes but once a ferkin',
    An' when it does, I'm ferkin' werkin'!