The Yearly Lament

Thus did we start another year,
Blurry-eyed from festive cheer,
Blurry-brained, belaboured breath,
From bawdy toasts to last year's death.
We lay abed, bemoaning fate,
Bedevilled by the breads we ate

Odiferously we exhaled,
Perfumed by excessive ale
And cultures of both grape and rye
Whilst "ne'er again" did sadly sigh.
Today we'll struggle into work
A task we would prefer to shirk

At work we'll greet a motley crew
Of fellow workers who all rue
Their weak, bleak state of ailing health
And damage to pretence of wealth.
Yet come full twelve-month, I do fear,
Again we'll celebrate New Year.

P. Finne