The Playwright's Christmas Do

The howling wind will make the music for the do,
The rain in diamond drops to make a bit of sparkle.
The door bell rings
They’re here.  I’ll put the kettle on.
It’s Mrs Iago
“The whole Knitting Circle?”
“As many as I could muster,
There’s something going round.
And Michael’s outside in the van.”
“I’d better open something.
This Chilean red?”
“That’ll do. Not too expensive.
I’ll check there’s no-one watching from the street.”
The bell again.  it’s Holmes,
Or is that Conan Doyle?
I never could tell the two apart.
He’ll entertain himself with a puzzle
To which there’s a seven percent solution.
Now they’re coming thick and fast:
Nanny Eve.  Arthur is already behind the curtain
Staring out the window at the past.
I know what she’ll have
There’s a bottle somewhere
For her to find.
Now Emma Hardy limping up the stars
Her hat a crumpled meringue.
Mary Anning, a few drops of laudenum
Just to keep her going for the day.
Oh here’s the panto crowd
Where?  You know very well where they are.
And someone from the very distant past
“Mr. Scrooge, isn’t it?
Still in the party mood?”
And so on in their hundreds
Filling the air with chatter.
The Hurdy Gurdy Boy, I’m glad he came.
I can’t see him, of course,
But Tamara is here to play the fiddle
And get that old Scrooge dancing
And Angelo to lurk darkly in the kitchen.
He’s cooking up something.
That lot from the house on the marsh
And the Foundation crew,
One missing, but which one?
That was the mystery.

And when they’re gone at last,
The final curtain fallen,
I’m glad the lads from the Pig Unit
Weren’t here to cause a stink.
The Time Traveller
Will come yesterday.
And many just couldn’t get in.
All in all Not a bad do.
Now back to what I love the best,
The music of the howling gale
The diamond rain drops on the pane.
And the kettle’s just boiled.