‘Twas the morning of Christmas in the Barefaced Chic pad
not a guest was stirring, not a sound to be had.
The pressies were festively wrapped with much care,
in hope that my family would dive in and tear.
As the guests still lay nestled, all snug in their beds,
while visions of Christmas feasts danced in their heads.
I lay bleary eyed having tossed all night long,
dreading the cooking, would something go wrong?
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
I stumbled and fumbled for a minute or two,
Because ‘springing’ at my age is a daft thing to do.
I threw open the door and to my utmost glee,
In a row on the landing stood Minions of three!
The one in the centre so handsome and brave,
I knew in a moment it was Minion Dave.
He whistled and called to his Minion fellows,
the landing soon filled with wee helpers of yellow.
More rapid than eagles downstairs we did flee,
and I called them by name to cook turkey for me!
Now Stuart! Now Kevin!
Now, Dave, Jerry and Bob!
Come Mark! Come Phil!
Get on with the job.
Up to the work surface those Minions they flew,
all tasked with a job, they knew just what to do.
Garbling in Minion they started to toil,
stuffing the turkey, putting veggies to boil.
Then laying his finger aside of his nose.
Dave threw me the camera and started to pose.
Jobs all complete Dave gave out a whistle,
and away they all scampered like the down of a thistle.
But before he popped out of sight Dave did cry,
“Me want banana! Muak, muak and poopaye!
I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas!