On Saturday last, we made a mound <br />Of lovely, shiny golden pounds. <br />Customers queued down the aisles: <br />In their baskets, goods were piled. <br /> <br />All day long, the tills were ringing; <br />Their money, to us, people were bringing. <br />Three hundred pounds, in ten minutes flat, <br />Was taken by till staff, wearing Santa hats. <br /> <br />Shop Floor Assistants raced to and fro; <br />Of customers, there was a constant flow. <br />Tons of stock was stacked on the shelves: <br />We were kept as busy as Santa's elves. <br /> <br />By close of day, the store was trashed, <br />But, at least we made a mountain of cash. <br />We had to stay late to finish the facing; <br />To get the job done, we were racing. <br /> <br />Many people had received their last pay: <br />Their final one before Christmas Day. <br />The cash was counted and we did land <br />Ourselves a total of eighteen grand.<br /><br />Angela Wybrow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-shopping/
