‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, and all through the Union,
Creatures were stirring, at The Mancunion.
Articles were written, published and subbed,
Stress levels were rising, shoulders were rubbed.
The elves set to work, loading the paper,
Deciding how best, to divide the labour.
Stitches were sewn, from cover to cover,
In order to create, an issue like no other.
The editors were busy, bustling and hungry,
Awaiting orders, from their chief Charlie.
‘News!’ he cried, ‘Features, Opinion!’,
‘Books, Film, Lifestyle, Music, Fashion!’
He rounded them up, calling them by names,
‘Sport, Photography, Theatre, Art, Games!’
But something was missing, something afoot,
Food and Drink was gone, and in its place: soot.
That night was sleepless, all awake in their beds,
How could Christmas go on without page 23’s red?
The morning seemed sombre, as they went to print,
Then with a jingle of bells, appeared Food and Drink.
But something was different, ‘twas plain to see,
Music seemed bolder, and more sassy.
Had they swapped colours, could it be true?
Charlie needed answers quick, there was so much to do
‘New year, new me’ Food laughed, and threw back its head,
I’ve always believed orange is the new red.
