We can’t believe it’s here again, this month of festive cheer,
Guess it’s time the Smiths sat down to rhyme the passing year.
But where to start is always hard, with Alex, Ben or Lee,
The chooks, the dog, the cat, the fish, the whole menagerie!
We might just take it from the top, and Alex fits the bill,
Almost thirteen, five foot eight, the girl that won’t sit still.
Eats books for breakfast, current taste that leans to Stephen King,
Shot put medal, choir wins — a bouncer who can sing?
Argues till the cows come home, debating takes the blame,
School vice-captain (funny title), ahh.. what’s in a name?
Artistically she’s gifted, the yard’s the place to start,
Put her on the ride-on and the lawn looks like Pro Hart!
But she’s still our little girl (as you look up in her eyes),
Should we warn the high school now, or leave it as a big surprise?
Ben has had a good year, doing really well in school,
Won seven hundred marbles, you can tell this boy’s no fool!
Got in the school sprint final, made the local baseball team,
Does homework (with some coaxing), thinks Rowan Atkinson’s a scream.
Had a go at violin, but no luck (sad to relate),
When you hold it like a baseball bat, it doesn’t sound too great.
But musically there’s still some hope, so we’ll just wait and see,
Knows hits from one to forty when he watches MTV.
When you’re ten and life is great, it’s hard not to survive,
A good night’s sleep, and lots of food, and Sega Megadrive!
Now Lee’s a different story, the word “hectic” seems to suit,
Back to study, full time job, the house and kids to boot (metaphorically).
It seems our worthy parliament in wisdom did decree,
That looking after little kids requires a Ph.D.
Diplomas and degrees — the awesome bureaucrats delight,
So in the room and study.. think we saw her Tuesday night?
And in the vague existence where the lesser mortals strive,
The house is clean, we’re all fed, the orchard seems to thrive.
We don’t know how she does it all, and still comes up for air,
Maybe the kids have got it right, they say “it’s ‘cos she cares!”
Now Mike is for the quiet life, and he tries hard to ignore,
The new truckload of pinebark that his loving wife has scored.
“I’ll add that to the list” he says, “and do it next weekend”,
(There’s fifty two of them next year — this list might never end!)
Still dabbles with the music, does a programme now and then,
Writes a local column (with a readership of ten).
Whoops — the line’s approaching, means we’re running out of space,
To stop the epic midstream is as good as any place.
So have a dinkum Christmas and a ripper ’94,
All the best to you and yours, and we’ll be back for more.
Mike, Lee, Alex & Ben