The old watchman is knocking, and we Overseers are mocking,As he bids us to arise at break of dawn;
And the ‘Orders’ bell is ringing as one satirist is singing
‘Christians awake, salute the happy morn.’
For it’s Christmas Day for all the world, except the Overseer
He has to work as hard that day as any of the year,
He must be late for ‘Orders’ on no account or cause
Or he’ll get a Christmas ‘wigging’  from the Boss — His Santa Claus.
The noonday sun is shining, while a few of us are dining.
On the one Side-line Dam five miles aback or more;
But our recollections haunting make us feel that there is something wanting,
Though ‘tis not the absent pudding we deplore.
For Christmas cards on lonely men a sadness tends to cast,
And make them feel that yearning born of visions of the past,
The vanished scenes and faces, alight with Christmas cheer,
Return from out the years of old and taunt the Overseer.
The busy day is ending and the workers homeward wending
Enchant the day with anecdote and mirth
But their songs our sighs are waking, for our very hearts are aching.
We have lost the news angelic: “Peace on earth,”
O the years of lonely living while our youth is at its best!
O the sins of single living, and the coarse and ribald jest!
Their past is sordid pleasure that has left the present bare,
Their past is sordid pleasure that has left the present bare,
And may blast and mar the future of the Estate Overseer.

The moon has risen o’er us;  from the temple sounds the chorus
Where the Brahmins blow their conches and beat their gongs;
Though it’s  bad to practice drinking, yet it’s worse to keep on thinking.
So “Come, you chaps, and drown your thoughts and wrongs”
Yes, end the dismal Christmas with an effort to rejoice!
Cough to hide those queer belying tremors in your voice!
Soother your bitter feelings by swilling bitter beer!
Do you see the prospects of the Estate Overseer?
-L.H.C. Phillips (Kyk-over-al, Vol. 6. No. 21)