TWAS chilly, and the sly TV

Did direly gabble in the dark.

All tipsy were the Barracloughs

At 1, Rathbone Park.

Beware of nylon socks, my son!

With snaggy bits that hang-nails catch!

Beware of fruit juice drinks, and shun

The Arsenal-Chelsea match!

He shook his eldest son's right hand,

Long time a buxom wife he'd sought,

Now rested he, from stag nights three,

They stood in drunken thought.

And as in queasy thought they stood,

The matriarch, with hair dyed flame,

Lurched over, spilling sherry (good),

And singing as she came

One two! One two! And down she flew,

The sherry glass went tinkle-crack,

They left her laid with pants displayed,

Sprawled, chucking, on her back.

"And hast thou got some German hock?

Come, pass the corkscrew now, my boy!

Let's both get p****d, she won't be missed,"

He hiccuped loud with joy.

Twas chilly, and the sly TV

Did direly gabble in the dark.

All tipsy were the Barracloughs

At 1, Rathbone Park.

Updated: 12:31 Wednesday, December 10, 2003