To Next Christmas

    My dear Next Christmas, -
    It is an excellent journalistic thing,
    Not to say a poetical thing,
    To be first in the field.
    Behold me, therefore, advancing
    At the head of that motley army
    Which will inevitably hail you
    When your time comes.
    For your predecessor,
    My dear Next Christmas,
    I cannot say much.
    He came in with several thousand inches of rain;
    He went out on a watery moon.
    There was turkey as usual,
    Pudding as usual,
    Mistletoe as usual,
    Peace on earth as usual.
    There were also the waits,
    The young folks,
    The postman,
    The dustman
    (No connection with the scavengers),
    And the turncock.
    We had a merry day.
    Half the world pretended to be happy,
    The other half pretended to be bored.
    The festivities, I understand,
    Are still being kept up.
    There is a ping-pong tournament at the Queen's Hall
    And a children's banquet
    At the Guildhall on Tuesday evening;
    Not to mention Mr. Dan Leno at Drury Lane
    And Mr. De Wet at the Tweefontein.
    It is all very cheerful
    And very inspiriting.
    All the same,
    Let us not repine:
            Christmas comes but once a year,
            And it will come again, I fear.
    This couplet, of course.
    My dear Next Christmas,
    Is not intended to be
    Disrespectful to you;
    It is inserted simply
    For the sake of effect.
    For I never miss an opportunity
    Of bursting into rhyme.
    When the way is plain before me.
    My dear Next Christmas,
    Do not be discouraged,
    Come next year by all means;
    If I said "Don't come"
    You would come just the same.
    Therefore, I say "Come,"
    And I trust, my dear Next Christmas,
    That when you do come
    You will bring us a little luck.
    Ring out the old, as it were,
    And ring in the new;
    Let candied peel
    Be a trifle cheaper;
    Let the war be settled
    To the satisfaction of both parties;
    Let the book trade flourish;
    Let the Income-tax be reduced:
    Let there be a fine Christmas Eve
    And dry waits,
    And a little skating next morning;
    Let there be peace and plenty,
    A pocket full of money,
    And a barrel full of beer,
    And all other good things,
    Including a free and enlightened Press,
    And a strong demand
    For seasonable poetry.
    My dear Next Christmas,
    Here is my hand,
    With my heart in it.
    Till we meet again -
    As Mr. Hall Caine says -
    Addio.