Christmas under the mango tree,
That’s where we used to go….
Pop and Nana and Uncle Ted,
And good old Jack and Flo…
Outback in the shade,
To escape that dry old heat…
We set up a couple of tables
And some planks on drums for seats…
It was so flamin hot,
But we still loved a Christmas roast…
Now spare a thought for Nana,
Who was the perfect host…
She slaved away on that old wood stove,
You never saw her flustered…
She cooked the greatest roast,
As well as plum pudding and vanilla custard…
There was watermelon in the laundry tub,
With a wet sack bag to keep it cool…
Homemade ginger beer,
Those memories make me drool…
We would all sit down for dinner,
With those paper hats upon our head…
Just looking up to Grand dad,
For that Christmas speech he read…
“Merry Christmas everyone”,
“It’s great to see you here” …
“You filled our hearts with love”
“And lot of Christmas cheer”…
We all tucked in to that festive feast,
Which was followed by dessert…
You could see that we all enjoyed it,
By the bulges in our shirt…
Yes, we were all knocked up,
It simply was the best…
Lots of tired and weary people,
Looking for a place to go and rest…
They were laying in the breeze way,
Or under the mango tree…
Just five minutes to recover,
That was their guarantee…
The rest of us played cricket,
Cracker dust driveway, for the pitch,
You ran through all those bindies,
Which caused your feet to itch…
For a minute you felt like Bradman,
As your Uncle bowled the ball…
You hit it for a six,
Across the neighbour’s wall…
Then just to top it off,
We went down the river for a swim…
We all piled into pop’s old Ute,
Overflowing to the brim…
That’s what I call Christmas,
Your family is what matters most…
Join in the celebrations,
Around that Christmas roast…
Cheers Len Newey