There are people, and surely you know some,
Who have told you already, this year,
That they won’t be sending out C cards
The ones full of Greetings and Cheer
They say that their reasons are simple
They say that their motives are clean
They just think the whole thing’s expensive
And the whole Christmas Card thing’s obscene.
So this year they’re saving the money
From postage and cards, as I said,
And giving all that as donations
To projects that they like instead.
For example, homes and vacations
For retired Greyhounds and Donkeys,
Or nearly (if not) extinct species
Of Apes, Gorillas and Monkeys.
And crèches for hard working Gerbils,
And apartments for Squirrels and Bats.
And Awaydays for Camels at seasides,
And counselling for Bunnies and Cats.
And Wildebeest sanctuaries set up,
In Surrey or Kent or a zoo.
For there’s no beast alive, I can think of,
Deserves more than the unfortunate Gnu.
No wonder they always look fed up!
No wonder they always look glum!
If they manage to survive trampling or drowning,
They end up in some fierce Big Cat’s tum.
But I don’t think I really care that much
About any high minded attempt
To save anything much at the moment,
But please don’t look on me with contempt.
So I’m also not sending a card, dear,
And as this “poem” reaches its ending,
I think it is time to inform you........
This is the card I’m not sending.