'GRINCH'

I am Grinch.

Grinch I am.

I do not like a Christmas ham.

I do not like new Christmas socks.

I do not like a ribboned box.

 

I’m not a fan of Christmas cheer.

I do not like mulled wine or beer.

Gingerbread’s a NO from me.

I hate a tinselled Christmas tree.

 

Carol-singing nags my nerves.

It tests my doom and gloom reserves.

I will not eat a Christmas cake.

I will not eat a turkey bake.

 

Bon-bons make me curse and choke.

I can’t abide a bad Dad joke.

I would not like these in my house.

Or with a fox or with a mouse.

 

I do not like these anywhere.

Because I’m Grinch ... 

... with strange green hair.

 

Now, if my coif were less dramatic,

Maybe I’d be less emphatic.

Maybe I’d feel more at ease.

Perhaps I’d chill and shoot the breeze.

 

I might be more inclined to mix.

Take part in games and party tricks.

Perhaps I’d get a ribboned box,

containing brand new Christmas socks!

 

I’d sit beneath a Christmas tree,

Sipping a mulled wine (or three).

I’d love to share a turkey bake.

I’d down a slice of Christmas cake.

 

I’d sing and dance as bon-bons burst.

I’d laugh at Dad jokes – best and worst.

I’d love to do this in my house.

(I’d still avoid a fox or mouse.)

 

I am Grinch.

Grinch I am.

I’m now a fan of thick, glazed ham.

Next Christmas, I’ll be everywhere.

Because ...

 

... I now have purple hair!