I never get a thing from Father Christmas,

my stocking hangs there empty, looking sad;

I wonder if he never got my wish list -

or if perhaps he thinks that I've been bad?

My friends get gifts they bring around to show me,

the underpants and socks that Santa brought,

it seems that old St. Nick don't want to know me,

they ask me what I got - it's always nought.

I see the kids on bicycles, so happy,

and wonder what does Santa want from me?

My Christmas morning always feels so crappy,

to wake up with no gifts beneath the tree.

Perhaps he thought my fairy lights were trashy,

or maybe couldn't see them from the sky?

He must have rated next door's rather flashy -

I notice that he didn't pass THEM by!

By Monday I'll have gotten over Christmas,

not care for presents, stupid ties, no thanks!

I'll be at work and getting down to business,

that's right - I run a chain of lovely banks!