What is this time of year?
Is it merry? I think not!
Another date that people fear,
They’ll not afford to keep their lot.
Money comes and money goes,
And often goes out of the bank.
Even Santa surely knows,
Good people get little whilst much goes to the bad!
Prancer, Dancer, Blitzen and all,
Carry a fat man from house to house,
Not a jolly fat communist at all,
He’s just the tax-man taking your worth south.
“You’re late on bills, late on tax –
Not doing very well this year!"
The tax-man says with his grin at max,
It's vile and brings no joy or cheer.
He takes away your precious things,
The heat and water he takes too.
Carried out by evil elvish underlings,
Who’ll get a slice of all removed.
But this can all be put aside,
For this is time for joy and cheer,
Is time for the poor to step aside –
If we see them, we might start to fear.
That all we have will one day go,
And we cannot ignore our shame –
This gift-giving season is a blow,
For no good deals are pricelessly made.
So hold your loved ones dear and tight,
And hope the tax-man's eyes will miss us.
Should he see what we have and feel delight,
We shall also lose a Merry Christmas...

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