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Consoles

The consoles played their festive tune,
Late afternoon in the semi-detacheds.
Crash, crack, thud, zap and boom!
The dads found they were overmatched.
Thus they hurriedly withdrew,
And awaited the new Doctor Who.

Through town and country, all the mummies,
Had sunk beneath food congestion.
Keen were the appetites, full the tummies.
Greater still, the indigestion.
Round and stout, all had become,
Gym membership, their resolution.

Did any stand up? — when the Queen,
Shared her best wishes with the nation.
Another year of peace foreseen,
More in hope than expectation.
Unduly satisfied with our material,
Scant thought was given to topics ethereal.

After ‘Minstrels’ by William Wordsworth

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