Poem: Festive Lunch

So we gather round the table,
Having paid over the odds,
In case you haven’t guessed,
I’m a “bah humbug miserable sod.”
They twisted my arm to come along,
Paid time off they said,
It’s only on the day,
We are told to take our time instead,
Still in for a Penny in for pound,
In the hope the boss pays for a round,
In the hope I’m sat next to that one bod I like,
In the hope that food is nice,
In the hope that it’s not like last year,
When they run out of beer,

We are not friends round the table,
Everyone cept the most deluded know, but forget,
Making best of just because…
Because of what? Because of a date,
Because some of you think you like each other,
Because Miss “office hot” might let you cop a feel,
Just because you’ve had a meal.

From where I sit, In reality,
It’s still a case of them and me,
They’ll blow festive sunshine up their pipes,
Fake festive smiles never to be wiped,
Why did I pay to share a room with you?
It’s bad enough when they pay me to.

By Photo by M. Rehemtulla [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons


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