By Lisa Plucknett
’TWAS the night before Christmas,
And all through the house;
The cockroach and vermin
We’re feeling – “Not Grouse.”
And the source of their sickness?
Me -’Cause I own the house.
For I’d sprayed all the benches
With Mortein and Rid;
And the ants – when they landed,
Went for a skid.
Each day when I woke ,
I sprayed them some more;
Then swept all the bodies,
At last count – Ninety-four.
Then did Christmas shopping,
Feeling quite jolly;
Singing “Christmas in Queensland
Is sometimes a folly.”
At night as I lay
Perspiring in bed;
Sugar plum fairies
NOT in my head ,
We get in a sweat
If the air-con breaks down;
And poor Santa he looks
Like an over-dressed clown.
Last Christmas I stripped
And sat in the pond;
But as I advised,
The pond is now gone.
PS
And if anyone says
That I should shift South
They’ll get a fat lip,
Told “Wash out your mouth.”
We’ll suffer the vermin,
The snakes and the crocs;
And we’re Saving our Daylight
Without altering clocks.
We’ll suffer the sunburn,
The heat and the stress,
And three cheers for Queensland,
The place I love best.
