And all round the home,
Are glasses with dregs
Of champagne (minus foam).
There are bottles galore,
Metal tops, wires and corks,
Some unwashed-up plates,
And some cake-gooey forks.
A cocktail stick snapped
Into very small bits...(Was somebody nearing
The end of their wits?)
The table with debris
From crackers is strewn,
There are squashed bits of ribbon...
A now-deceased balloon.
Someone spilled gravy,
The candles dripped wax,There's the chaos that came from
Two Santa-filled sacks.
There are wrappings
Not yet in the big bag marked "litter";
On the sofa is Play-Doh,
And icing and glitter.
Half-assembled, a castle...
A key (but no lock),Empty battery packs
And a child's cast-off sock.
The knife we had lost
Has been found by the telly,
The turkey's congealed.
And its juice is now jelly.
There are dishes with sprouts,
(Over-catered of course),Potatoes, and carrots,
And dried-up bread sauce.
In the carpets are peanuts
In bits and well-trodden,
The tea towels look grey:
They're in heaps and they're sodden.
Our guests all had fun,
The event was informal,
But what we want now
Is to get back to normal.
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