Gather round all ye who are able,
holly, ivy, mistletoe, yew.
Sit a while at the festive table,
a mince pie and a drink or two.
A cracking joke, a yuletide log,
an evening with a candle bright.
Another drink, a sleeping dog,
a silent, silent night.
And then as if kindly Santa made it so,
a knock on the door, who could it be?
Ok, I’ll get up, I’ll go,
Why, its six more consultants for St Peter’s A and E.
(a don’t stop till you drop production)