We all love Father Christmas and non his
name would slur
But what of Mother Christmas, is there no song for her.
She's working in the background every minute of the day
While Santa practices his laugh, she polishes up his sleigh.
She bathes the elves and scans the list
To see that no-one has been missed
She's washed and ironed he's outfit red
And seen at the reindeers were warm and fed.
Who but Mother Christmas wraps and chooses every gift
And answers all the letters that through her doorway drift.
The same time every year, the sacks are full, eyebrows trimmed and beard
brushed.
Santa’s and shouting “ho ho ho” as through the door he's pushed
Then Father Christmas starts his epic journey far across the sky
And Mother has a cup of tea and heaves a big, deep sigh.
364 days I’ve worked to get this Christmas right
And he'll get all the Glory, just for working one blessed night.
