h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Twitter's a tool for Don Trump.
It helps him when he's on the stump,
But in 2020,
He came up empty.
The voters sent him to the dump.

When I was a wee lad
my name used to be Brad.
I would listen to my uncle Bob
about how he lost his key fob.
Uncle Bob was distracted by Bub
talking about his favourite pub.

My days as a carefree young boy
had moments of terror and joy.
I had operations
And Summer vacations,
And siblings that I could annoy.

Simba keeps on saying meow
whenever he says a ginger cat.
Most of the times he lies on a mat
while practising the ways of Tao.

This is the way said Din Djarin
to the intergalactic café.
They even serve sloe gin
at the bounty hunter soirée.

But dear sweet little Drogu
who seemed to be forever hungry.
He would even eat fondue with stew
that would make him shout whoopee.

Drogu is one with the Force
and could move objects by moving his hand
This was part of the course
as he ventured into the Force dreamland.

The force is with me when I'm glad,
But not so much when I am sad.
I'm happiest, of course,
When riding a horse,
And wearing a nice tartan plaid.

I won't be getting my Christmas pudding,
the one that I have specially chosen.
It won't be the same, as it doesn't have the thing
that makes it special, I'd eat it even if it was frozen.

I'm getting another make, but it won't be the same.
As the one, I was getting was matured for 4 years.
As everything else will taste tame, which is such a same.
I'll wipe away my tears as I buy another and pay the cashier.

So, I will be going to the store on the morrow,
hoping that they will have the pudding of my dreams.
But, as long as their is frost or even falling snow,
the pudding will always reign supreme, even if it's an ice cream.

You have got it on the side,
a little one night thing.
It made me look cock-eyed
when wearing so much bling.

I have bought it over
my special peace offering.
I will be bring a 4 leafed clover
with a large diamond ring.

It is time that I forgive you,
for what happened in the past.
I'll bring my special brew
and a sailing yacht with one mast.

Well, I will be trying so hard to let go
of my built up resentment.
I will try and turn the rain into snow
and give you back your four bed tent.

You told I was your only one
but now you say that I am not enough.
You told me that you'd rather go on a fun run
to the bakery and buy their last lemon cream puff.

You tell me that you want me to have magic powers
and that I should never, ever look older that twenty.
You even tell me that I should instantly grow wildflowers
whenever I am having afternoon tea or walk by the sea.

My pudding is full of resentment.
I will use my magic powers
To generate contentment
For my remaining months and hours.

According to the weather forecast,
warmer weather will be on their way.
It'll be nothing like the winters in the past
as a child taking part in the school nativity play.

The chances are we won't be getting snow
but if the sun shines from now until Christmas day.
Nothing will take away my sorrow and the added woe
even if I pray that everything will turn out parfait.

It's going to be a cold, cold, Christmas without you.
I'll be missing you, my darling, in oh, so many ways.
I'll be having the blues when I'm making my fondue
as you gave me your recipe which you received a lot of praise.

Yesterday I saw your Mam and Dad
as it reminded the times we bought cards together.
It was the first year in our luxury apartment pad
where we had a roof garden covered with lavender and heather.

I'd put the presents underneath the Christmas tree.
Then I begin to write a letter to make me feel better.
I write the times when I was so happy and carefree
when we would go on long country walks with your red setter.

It's so warm, inside, the log fire is burning bright.
Oh, darling I wish you were here with your favourite pint of beer.
If you were here, everything will become alright
and you will fill me with cheer, when you appear and stay to the New Year.

We'll get so much rain Christmas Day,
I fear that we might blow away.
We'll get mighty gales
Through hills and through dales.
Poor Santa won't be feeling gay.

I didn't bother with the mistletoe
You won't be here to kiss me.
We stayed in a French château
last winter where I learned how to ski.

The only consolation that I've got
I know for sure you'll miss me
and remember the times we sailed in a yacht
when your proposed me to me on a bended knee.

It won't be long until you're home again
And we can share these magic moments.
We'll celebrate with a bottle of champagne
as the temperatures begin to descent.

A proposal, champagne, and a yacht,
Some magic, romance, what you've got
Is sounding quite nice.
Life's a roll of the dice.
To remember the good times you ought.

There lives Mrs Hufflepuff
in an windmill house in Old Amsterdam.
Her home was never filled with fluff
but quadruplet babies in an ever expanding pram.

Rudolph the red-nose reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
He was filled with cheer
whenever his nose glows.

All the other reindeer
used to laugh and call him names.
Some of them would even sneer
and left him out of their games.

Then one very foggy Christmas Eve
Santa Claus came to say,
Would you please come and leave
to join me with my sleigh.

"Rudolph with your red glowing nose
will you come and guide my sleigh tonight.
"We will be flying over hills and meadows
as the snow will make everything look white."

Then all the reindeer loved him
as they all shouted with glee.
They sang a winter hymn
which made Rudolph feel carefree.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,
jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring.
Dancing together wearing only one sock,
and wearing the best bling when doing our thing.

Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun
as we drink gallons of brandy eggnog.
Now the jingle hop has begun
as we feast on popcorn and a hot-dog.

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time.
We watch the snow falling gently
covering all the dirt and grime
as wells the roofs and the lone Scots pine tree.

Dancing and prancing in the jingle bell square
in the frosty air where the mayor recites the Lord's prayer.
A roaming black bear comes to the hop dressed in knitwear
and stops to sit in a veranda snow covered rocking chair.

What a bright time, it's the right time
to rock the night away in this wintertime soiree.
The ladies will be wearing tiaras topped with a dime
next to the table decorated with greenery covered in rime.

Town pavements, busy high street pavements,
adorned with bright lights and decorations.
Busy commuters and city Kent gents,
walking past volunteers collecting donations.

There is anticipation for the coming feast,
as children eagerly await a visit from Santa.
There are cold winds coming from the East
that's greeted with a hearty hosanna.

The long awaited snow will finally come
to those who have been waiting since 2011.
They will be drinking eggnog with added rum
waiting for a blizzard in the county of Devon.

The blizzard will come. Get your shovel.
It's time to come out of your hovel.
But if you get rain,
There's no need to complain.
You always can read a fine novel.

We wish you a merry Yuletide
and a happy New Year.
Food and wine, we will provide
for the folks in Lincolnshire.

Good tidings we bring
to you and to your kin.
So let us sing
and play the violin at the inn.

We will bring the figgy pudding
topped with a sprig of holly.
Inside there will be an emerald ring
which will arrive on the buffet trolley.

We will bring you much cheer
at this wondrous and joyful feast.
So come and sample our mulled beer
to ward of the pest from the West beast.

I belong to Edinburgh
dear old Edinburgh town.
It's where I bought myrrh
and my green and silver ball gown.

For it's going around and around
that I am just a plain old working chap.
I have found an Afghan wolfhound
that wears a cloth cap when having a nap.

Anyone here can see me wail like a banshee
when I have a couple of drinks on Saturday.
It fills me with glee not to have to drink tea
or coffee at Henri's cafe when watching a ballet display.

Me and a few of my cronies, who are all called Tony.
One or two pals of my own , who love to moan on the phone.
We always eat baloney with three cheese macaroni
which was made by Joan, who is an expert in playing the trombone.