Seasonal Readings

[canasta]

Can anyone suggest any seasonal readings or poems I could read out loud at a small group meeting in January, please.
Each member of the group has been asked to read a passage or a poem of our choice, serious or humerous and I don't know where to look!

[Peaspeculiars]

The man who watched the night made not a sound,
But his hands were now the cleanest and softest around.
See, last week at the station by Oliver Pickett,
He was flung from the train for not buying a ticket,
He tried to explain that he did mean to buy,
But was ejected so fast, without chance to say why.

In the bakery, Monday, with Lady McDoole,
He went bright red in the face when she called him a fool!
Her fluffy Chihuahua had tripped him straight over,
But of course t’was his fault and not that of ‘Poor Rover!’

Bert O’Flaherty, well now there was a man,
Who’d con all of money as fast as he can,
In poker, the killer lost all he’d put in,
To a straight flush Bert won to go buy more gin.

Alice, the flirt with her cleavage on show,
Rejected our murderer when blind-drunk on Merlot,
He loved her it’s true, though be it from afar,
But now it was hate, she had broken his heart.

With Penny, low of money now, a challenge did she make,
Accused him of short changing her, all over a piece of Hake,
Never in his life had he been doubted on his honour,
It seems that fate was sealed that day for what would fall upon her.

Last Earnest Hill, the lovely butcher, why did he get-got?
They fought, and fought for trade you see and Earnest got the lot,
He made the locals think that meat was better than the Fish,
So at the end for miles around, Lamb Chops were in the dish.

The clues are given, hints are dropped, Who Dunnit you ask now?
Well, see below the answers there, did you guess who, why, how?

The murder had the reasons above to take revenge you see,
He used the dinner as a chance to get them silently,
His hands were calloused, full of grime, but there was a trick he knew,
To escape detection, to tell the police ‘I know nothing, yes, It’s true!’
After washing fingers - Brasso, ash and dust they can’t be seen,
When you moisturise your hands with Norwegian Formula Fisherman’s cream.
The moral of this story, for on this point it shall end,
As you can’t choose your enemy’s, make yourself a Fisherman’s Friend

[canasta]

Cheers, Pea, I've copied it into a word doc and have printed a copy. I really appreciate your doing this for me, Thank you

Looking at your blog we don't live far away from you!!
Shame there's no way to PM on here!

[Peaspeculiars]

No worries, I had fun doing it and it cleared my mind after a very busy day at work,
At one point I did ask my other half for a bit of help and his response was... 'Shall I compare thee to a bag of chips...' lol!
Hope you have a fantastic Christmas and good luck with the meeting in Jan :-)
Pea

[roopower]

Love the poem, Peaspeculiars. You are clever to be able to write something like that so quickly! ( love the dog, too, by the way)

[Peaspeculiars]

Thanks Roopower :-) and yes, the dog is a darling (most of the time) and certainly keeps us fit! All the best, Pea