A recessionary Christmas

This Christmas, we’ll save what we’ve got,
Keep on the straight and narrow.
There’ll be no turkey in the pot –
I hope you like roast sparrow.

The North Pole says the elves
Have all been made redundant
And so we’ll make the cards ourselves
And toys won’t be abundant.

Presents, such as they will be,
Will come wrapped in The Sun,
The Great Escape will start at three
And end at three oh one.

The Christmas tree will be replaced
By sprig of pyracantha
And thriftiness will be embraced
By banning talk of Santa.

Impoverished, we’ll proudly stand
With Jesus in the stall,
For its acknowledged cross the land
That we have got shag all.