Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The cause of the silence is easy to tell,
The lighting is off, the heating as well.

The wind has not blown now for multiple days,
The sun has not blessed us with its warming rays.
The ice in the windows has already formed,
The people are bedded to keep themselves warmed.

Across the land from Thurso to Thanet disciples are valiantly saving the planet,
Least that’s what they’re led to believe.
But with poor education and misinformation,
The blob will always deceive.

It began when a star was seen in the north,
A different one this time with no virgin birth.
St Greta of Sweden was born to deliver,
A message of fear to make us all shiver.

She spoke to world leaders of her new religion,
And urged them on to make the decision.
Stop carbon now and you will be heroes,
As long as you strive to reach your net zeros.

The leaders thought hard and decided to act,
For fear is a weapon and that is a fact.
If we can manipulate this kind of fear,
It will keep us in power for many a year.

So the self harm took hold in gradual stages,
To carry us back to the late middle ages.
With windmills and solar we struggle for power,
With the rich getting richer with each passing hour.

The battery cars and the air pump heaters,
Will soon get rid of our old useless eaters.
They might just burn or they might well freeze,
But either way its a wonderful wheeze.

We’ll save a fortune on pensions and care,
And replace our old folk with young from elsewhere.
The immigration must never stop,
Its essential for helping our wage bills to drop.

Our own young will languish in digital prisons,
And may well be happy there.
So the world will exist for corrupt politicians,
And WEF billionaires.

The plot of the scam is not at all hidden,
Yet few seem to comprehend.
The sheep will do as the sheep are bidden,
And follow unto their end.

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But soft what light from yonder window breaks?
Is it the east and Juliette at the cill?
Your pointing west you romantic freak,
And the figure you see is OldBill!

Yes, 'tis me in my 12 minute city,
('cause 15 refuses to scan).
Wielding my quill for my yuletide ditty,
Reaching out to my fellow man.

With shivering hands and a candle for light,
It really isn’t so easy to write.
So I just say, for now, forget all the fear,
Have a cracking Christmas and a belting new year.