Christmas Every Week: Christmas Cards
Arnold Kellett's poem emphasises that there is humbug in the sending of many Christmas cards - but also an entrancing Christmas magic.
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How curious is the Christmas card;
Victorian invention
To celebrate the birth of Christ,
Who scarcely gets a mention.
But see these sentimental scenes
With bogus Yule-logs glowing,
And solemn robins wondering why
For them it's always snowing.
So once again, perennial chore,
We'll post our printed greeting,
And tick the everlasting list,
Mechanically repeating.
Until we reach a name we love,
Through death, alas, deleted
Or one who sent no card last year
And made us feel quite cheated!
For friendships are reciprocal;
We must be systematic:
They sent a card, we'll send one back -
It's neat and democratic.
And cards for folk we never see
Are sent with no misgiving:
Just once a year, a signed receipt
To show that we're still living!
You're right, old Scrooge, there's humbug here!
But, still, it's not too tragic:
We'll shuffle multi-coloured cards,
Entranced by Christmas magic!
