Oh Christmas tree oh Christmas tree,
You are a strange tradition.
All year you stand there nakedly,
Not changing your position.
But when December rolls around
You’re finally invited
Inside our homes – where you are crowned,
Adorned in balls and lighted.
The problem is, oh Christmas tree,
This makeover causes me stress
As while you stand there awkwardly,
I’m getting myself in a mess.
I’m tangled in your fairy lights.
The distribution is poor,
And my eyes are forest-green from sights
Of the stunning display next-door.
I’m giving up now, Christmas tree.
You looked better naked I think.
If anyone asks, you look fine to me…
At least… you will –
When I’ve finished this drink.