It’s eight in the morning,
Ring, ring goes the phone,
“You’d better come quickly,
It’s our Auntie Joan”

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“Hello there, my darling,
Are you busy at all?
Uncle Bob’s on the mend,
So I thought I would call.

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You remember last year,
When you said that you missed us?
We’re putting that right,
We are coming for Christmas

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Don’t go to no trouble,
Seeing you is what matters,
Just a nice bit o’ turkey
And a few roasted tatters

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No cranberry sauce,
We would much prefer mustard,
And served with our pud’
We’ll be happy with custard

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Can we bring Uncle Fred
And his poor sister, Mabel?
Their dogs are no trouble
Eating scraps from the table

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As for sprouts, I can tell you,
It’s best if you fry them,
Uncle George will come then,
For he does like to try them

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Have you room in your kitchen?
Should we bring extra chairs?
You won’t mind, after dinner,
If George sleeps upstairs?

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So lovely to talk, dear,
There are tears in my eyes,
That you phoned to invite us,
Such a lovely surprise”

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