Для деток очень подойдет вот эта милая песенка, которую можно использовать и как стихотворение. Все тексты очень благозвучно звучат на английском.

 
 

Boxing Day

Christmas day now over,
The turkeys now all dead.
While the bloated celebrators
Sleep their gorging off in bed.

No matter what it cost them.
(Though it cost the turkeys more),
They’d enjoyed the Christmas spirit
They’d invited through their door.

With plastic in their wallets
To finance their spending spree,
They ensured that all they’d purchased
Was on show for all to see.

They let family, friends and colleagues
Know what Christmas really means,
That by spending, spending, spending
You can purchase all your dreams.

Alas for all tomorrows
They may have to scrimp and save,
While the lucky Christmas turkeys
All lie peaceful in their graves!

by Ivor G Davies

Boxing Day

Christmas over,
Boxing day,
Snow replaced by rain,
Turkey eaten,
Presents opened,
Bones and wrapping remain.

Silent carols,
Muted bells,
The candles all burned out,
Bottle tops,
Nutshells
And gift tags lay round about.

Glittered cards,
Ribbons and bows,
Tinsel, baubles and more,
Unwanted gifts,
Stale perfume,
All strewn across the floor.

The tree bare,
Bulbs blown,
Forgotten cracker jokes,
Empty bottles,
Hangovers
Santa just some bloke.

Party poppers,
Paper hats,
Plastic Jesus in his stable,
Fallen cards,
Holly leaves
Litter the festive table.

Melancholy
Mistletoe,
The anti-climax seems sad,
But in my heart
It will always be
The best Christmas I’ve had.

by Robert Horton

After Christmas

The day after Christmas
beginning exercise path again
leftover excitement from Christmas day
children enjoying their new presents
everyone rush to the leftover food

resort to the mall; after Christmas sales
brace for the arrival of new years
celebrate the honorable boxing day
plan yet once again New Years festivities
return unwanted gifts.

It’s Boxing Day

It’s Boxing Day and what to blog?
We’ve eaten a third of the turkey, and barely touched the hog…

The family’s out in the rain for their annual slog,
Filling their lungs with city-park smog.

Aunty’s sprout allergy kicked in – she’s on the bog,
We’ll call the plumber later for the much needed de-clog.

Junior’s new puppy just laid another Christmas log,
Or is that Junior2’s joke plastic analogue?

Uncle is comatose from too much grog,
His still-lit pipe pouring out that noxious fog.

Teenagers, unsatisfied, digest the catalogues,
All thoughts of love, and selfless giving – empty epilogue.

Boxing Day leaves only the young at heart still agog,
To carry forward their joy of giving into next year’s dialogues.

by T. James

BOXING DAY

Of all the joys the seasons bring,
And roost, alas! have flown away,

I dearly do delight to sing
The pleasures of a Boxing Day.

For then a host of smiling folks
Are anxious their respects to pay,

And tell me (would it were a hoax !
That, “ if I please,” It’s Boxing Day.

Those doleful Waits, who’ve Iain in wait,
To scare my balmy sleep away,

Like bravoes, who’ve despatch’d their job,
Now claim reward on Boxing Day.

The Milkmaid, who deals out sky-blue,
Her tally’s double-scor’d, they say,

With smiling: face, of rosy hue,
A curtsey drops on Boxing Day.

The Baker’s man, who brings me bread
As heavy as a lump of clay.

And bricks as hard as any stone,
I can’t refuse on Boxing Day.

As I was walking in the street,
I met the Butcher with his tray;

He thrust the corner in my eye,—
I’ll think of him on Boxing Day.

The Scavenger, who plaster’d me.
When dress’d in wedding-suit so gay,

Now hopes I ‘ won’t forget, d’ye see.
As how that this here’s Boxing Day.’

My house on fire—no turncock found;
My house burnt down—he came to say,

He hop’d that I’d reward his zeal,
And think of him on Boxing Day.

The Bellman, Dustman, Chimney-sweep,
Bring up the rear in smart array,

And all get drunk, and strip to fight,
To prove it is a Boxing Day.

I’m dreading Boxing Day

I’m dreading Boxing Day this year,
And not because i’m a Scrooge.
It’s because i’ve got to spend the day with the In-Laws,
Thats something no one can approve.

Christmas at all,  with the In-Laws,
Is something to avoid every year,
The knives are out and sharpened,
Aimed straight at my back i fear.

The chance for a drink and a gossip,
Is one that they cannot resist.
But leave the room for a second,
And you’ll be top of the talked-about list.

With the ongoing disagreements,
Its like being back at school.
With people with a hidden agenda,
It will be no happy yule.

My sister-in -law hates me,
and is incredibly spiteful about everyone.
She acts like a psycopathic teenager,
Boxing Day will be living up to it’s name for some.

I really really really don’t want to go round,
Its cruel to expect me to do so,
I’ve been stabbed in the back so often by them,
That i’d rather sacrifice christmas than go.

Boxing Day

Where was God on Boxing Day,
You will hear some people say.
In the same place, as the day before,
when the birth of his Son, we chose to ignore.

Where was God on Boxing Day,
You may have heard some people say.
In the same place, when we with our armies,
killed many more, than a hundred tsunamis

Where was God on Boxing day,
Did you, hear those people say.
In the same place, contemplating the dead,
our grain mountains, could have made them some bread.

Where was God on Boxing Day
can you hear those people say,
In the same place, watching children with spades,
burying their parents, who suffered with aids.

Where was God on Boxing Day,
I too, have heard those people say
In the same place, perhaps deep in thought
possibly weeping, for those we abort.

So where was man on Boxing Day
steeped in sin, no time to pray,
and when the great tsunami came,
we said it’s God, let him take the blame.

by Albert Watson