All this week on Twitter I’ve been putting a topical twist on some seasonal songs. So here they all are in one place. Merry Christmas your arse!

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THE HOLLY AND THE IVY

The Holly and the Ivy/

Are in a Tier Three town,/

And like all the pubs and restaurants/

They are bloody well shut down.

***

GOD REST YE MERRY

God Rest ye Merry Gentlefolk,/

Let nothing you dismay,/

Remember not to see your folks/

This year on Christmas Day/

To save us all from Covid’s pow’r/

Please do not go astray,/

Oh find some home comforts you enjoy, you enjoy,/

Oh find some home comforts you enjoy.

***

DECK THE HALLS

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, Fa la la la la, la la la la,/

Johnson is a hopeless wally, Fa la la la la, la la la la./

Don we now our gay apparel, Fa la la la la, la la la la,/

Pubs are shut, please send a barrel, Fa la la la la, la la la la.

***

I SAW THREE SHIPS

I saw three ships come sailing in/

On Christmas Day, On Christmas Day/

I saw three ships come sailing in/

On Christmas Day in the morning/

O whither sailed those ships all three/

On Christmas Day, On Christmas Day/

O whither sailed those ships all three/

On Christmas Day in the morning?/

O they were bound for Brexitland/

On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day/

O they were bound for Brexitland/

On Christmas Day in the morning./

And what was in those ships all three/

On Christmas Day, On Christmas Day?/

And what was in those ships all three/

On Christmas Day in the morning?/

Some wilted greens and fruit so sad/

On Christmas Day, On Christmas Day/

Some wilted greens and fruit so sad/

On Christmas Day in the morning/

And all the Brits on earth shall ring/

On Christmas Day, On Christmas Day/

And all the Brits on earth shall ring/

For takeaway in the morning.

***

WE THREE KINGS

We three kings of orient are/

Bearing gifts we travel afar/

Westward leading, special pleading,/

Following Waze by car./

Oh, car through lockdown, car by night,/

Car with headlights burning bright/

Westward leading, special pleading,/

Guide us past the cops tonight.

***

IN THE BLEAK MID-BREXIT

In the bleak mid-Brexit, Frost and Johnson moaned/

France stood hard as iron, Brussels like a stone./

Pound was falling, pound was falling, low on low,/

In the bleak mid-Brexit, just days ago./

“What can we give them, poor as we are?/

If we still made autos, we could sell them cars./

What did we promise? An oven-ready dish./

Yet what can we offer? Give them some fish”.

*******

Season’s Greetings from

Mick Twister