1.

Poor Grinch
on a store-binge?
Paramours flinch.
I deplore this!

2.

Forage for gorgeous
worn stitch. How my
sore itch warrants
a sweet glitch. Treat

this seat-twitch
on a neat cinch.

3.

Couch a park bench,
stark wretch, make

my bright eyes dazed
by your brave plays,
throw some quaint shade
with your side-gaze.

4.

Wreak a slow beat
with your crow-shriek,
dig it snow-deep,
don't you blow heat!

5.

After he blathers
his twisted palaver
with Mr Mathers,
Sir George Smith,

former skinflint,
normal forger
of the split mint,
stores horrid porridge

in a Kenmore fridge
by the thorned hedge.

6.

Make a sandwich
where the bones wedge

at the cliff's edge
as the stiffs rest,
pull a roped bell,
toll the hope-knell

(no, it's not swell,
you won't cope well),
tell a dope spell
for the cold dead.