It is pleasant time of year
None alive would be to spear
When the dwarfs will count deeds
Of book-keeping records seeds

When good practice was abandoned
When who did was made redundant 
Of the new and cheerful body
They would make delicious lolly

Slice it, dice it, squeeze to bottom
Then remains of what's forgotten
Give to owners for the spare
Or redundancy declare 

It is Christmas for accounts
Bless us got for all that counts 
We have few more weeks to go
To clean up the books of horror