Christmas Eve night
And the pub is not very full,
Although there is a hundred percent more
People than last year,
When it was closed,
And we were locked down
Like pampered prisoners.
The DJ plays the same songs
As he does every weekend.
And when he plays
‘Love really hurts without you,’
I feel like crying,
Because it is true.
There is a man in here
Who looks like a garden gnome,
Woolly hat pulled down,
Squashing his ears,
A carefully constructed beard.
He grabs a kiss from a woman with large breasts,
Who then staggers to the bar top heavy,
Ready for more shots,
That she spills down her chest.
My friend Karl has walked in
And it appears he has been drinking
All day again.
He sits alone with his eyes shut tight,
Occasionally clapping along to the song,
And jerks his denim clad body,
Awkwardly.
I don’t know if Karl and I
Will see another Christmas,
If we don’t quit
This drinking tradition.
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