Spin back, if you will, to January the first
Of 2016 (and prepare…for the worst)
The year’s limbering up, in a pair of green pumps
While, oddly, it flicks through a pack of Top Trumps
It bids you come over and says “here’s a tip.”
“Put on a seat belt; it’s one hell of a trip.”
A starting gun sounds and we’re off in a din
A few days flash by, then the first blow comes in
Bowie bows out at the start of the year
Did he see what was coming, he was always a seer?
Rickman then follows, just four days behind
Truly, madly and deeply and one of a kind
By month’s end the dead gain another addition
Wogan signs off, did he have Euro-vision?
February’s cold hand then takes Harper Lee
Now her mockingbird sings in heavenly key
In March it’s George Martin, leaving Paul and Ringo
And then Johann Cruyff; it’s his turn… to go
Victoria Wood dies before growing old
How our prime time will miss her comedy gold
And then, far too young, another one flies
Prince dances off, and a thousand doves cry
Now we’re at May (not that one, she’s later)
Carla Lane rides heaven’s escalator
We come into June and Ali punches out
Floats like a butterfly to celestial bouts.
I hope you’re still with us in this tale of the dead
Fancy a change? Let’s try politics instead
The big EU vote is cast without fuss
The matter is settled by ‘facts’, on a bus
Remain cry foul, though their ‘facts’ were hazy
A few hours go by…and Westminster goes crazy
Cameron out, Johnson Gove both in and out
Leadsom in then out, May shakes them all about
She does the hokey cokey, then turns around
Brexit means Brexit and down comes the Pound
I do hope that interlude wasn’t too trying
Perhaps, on reflection, we’ll stick to the dying
July sees Ellie Wiesel pass away
May the night in his soul now turn into day
In August Gene Wilder can hold on no longer
He’d had a good life – he played Willy Wonka!
By September we’re not sure how much more we’ll take
Then the BBC loses a show about cake
Our streets fill with wailing, our hearts fill with fear
Our Victoria sponge cakes absorb every tear
October is better, some respite from woe
Unless you’re a big fan of Dario Fo
Is the storm finally passing, is the worst of it done?
Dear 2016, can we now have some fun?
The year glances over, with a look that says “no”
“There’s one more surprise still left in this show”
Your brow gains a furrow… then your throat gains a lump
Surely not. You can’t mean. Are we talking…Trump?
November the 9th, the election is won
The world gasps with horror and says “what have they done?”
Castro decides it’s not looking too swell
And puffs his last Cuban (then so does Manuel).
Strange times. Scary times. Where is it all going?
How will we make it without Leonard Cohen?
But hey, this is Christmas, a chance to withdraw
To sing lovely songs about babies and straw
A fairytale scene, a brief break from our lives
A moment’s escape, ’til the next year arrives
And yet, look more deeply and what do we see?
Jesus the vulnerable, a child refugee
Strong men as rulers, who use violence and lies
Met only with love in this Christ when he dies
And so if you’re feeling this year has been hell
You’re not alone. Immanuel. Immanuel.