I Always Play The Christmas Tree
Every Christmas since Year 3
when we do Nativity
why does every teacher see
I’m only good for playing trees
Never had a single line
Draped in crêpe to play a pine
Wound in tissue-paper twine
My painted face, a shade of slime
Loo roll angels on my head
Ping pong baubles dangle red
No one ever hears me beg
Oh can’t I play the cow instead
Now though made of sterner stuff
I’m Year 6, I’ve had enough
Got a plan, I’m really chuffed
Tonight I’ll be a cut above
Play the part I want to be
that in all Nativities
I have heard but never see
tonight that part belongs to me …
On the stage, I stand and wait
Grinning, I anticipate
How the crowd, I’ll captivate
How teachers will announce, He’s great!
Entering from stage left, they stir
Three wise men, without a word
bearing gifts of gold and myrrh
and I’m about to play the third
Shuffling to the front, I tear
loo roll angels from my hair
Throwing crêpe into the air
until at last, I’m standing there
Stitches scarred across my brow
Glaring with a green-faced scowl
Shepherds scream beneath tea towels
my bolted neck makes Mary howl
Finally I say my line:
Baby Jesus so divine
guided by a star that shines
I come here bearing Frankenstein
when we do Nativity
why does every teacher see
I’m only good for playing trees
Never had a single line
Draped in crêpe to play a pine
Wound in tissue-paper twine
My painted face, a shade of slime
Loo roll angels on my head
Ping pong baubles dangle red
No one ever hears me beg
Oh can’t I play the cow instead
Now though made of sterner stuff
I’m Year 6, I’ve had enough
Got a plan, I’m really chuffed
Tonight I’ll be a cut above
Play the part I want to be
that in all Nativities
I have heard but never see
tonight that part belongs to me …
On the stage, I stand and wait
Grinning, I anticipate
How the crowd, I’ll captivate
How teachers will announce, He’s great!
Entering from stage left, they stir
Three wise men, without a word
bearing gifts of gold and myrrh
and I’m about to play the third
Shuffling to the front, I tear
loo roll angels from my hair
Throwing crêpe into the air
until at last, I’m standing there
Stitches scarred across my brow
Glaring with a green-faced scowl
Shepherds scream beneath tea towels
my bolted neck makes Mary howl
Finally I say my line:
Baby Jesus so divine
guided by a star that shines
I come here bearing Frankenstein
This poem is copyright (©) Mark Bird 2025

About the Writer
Mark Bird
Mark lives in London but is originally from Uttoxeter, Staffordshire. He is a teacher and children's writer. He has been published in Brian Moses' recent anthology: The Best Ever Book of Funny Poems as well as by Gill Education and The Caterpillar Magazine. His poem, “Halloween Date from Hell” is due to be published by Ventorros Press in 2022 and will be illustrated by Chris White. Mark has his own blog and website: www.dreambeastpoems.com