In Competition No. 3281, you were invited to provide 16 lines of cheerful welcome to 2023 in the metre of Tennyson’s ‘In Memoriam’. ‘Ring out the old, ring in the new,’ wrote the poet in ‘Ring out, wild bells’, part of ‘In Memoriam’. Hats off to all: it was a terrific entry – cheery but with the occasional gratifying sting in the tail. The winners take £25.

Ring out wild bells for ’23,
Forget the country’s woeful state:
With luck, inflation will deflate,
In time we’ll all be Covid-free.

Ring out the old, ring in the new
As PMs come and PMs go,
Though all is blue, the wind may blow –
Bring changes of a different hue.

The bells will ring when Charles is crowned,
We’ll have an extra holiday,
The sun will shine, we’re making hay,
No thoughts of the depleted pound.

And, just restored, we’ll hear Big Ben –
Its face of gold and Prussian blue
And tower equipped with lift and loo –
Ring in the New Year once again!

Sylvia Fairley

This year we shall take back control:
ignite the bonfires of red tape!
An après-Brexit realm takes shape
of custard creams and Dover sole.

Her pints of beer are full of hops,
her sausages are good to go.
As sunny uplands bloom and grow
the bent bananas fill the shops.

Their metric system is kaput
and road signs once again show miles.
Great British men are wreathed in smiles
for five feet ten remains six foot.

The unicorn and lion prance
on navy passports stark and stiff,
and from the crown of Shakespeare’s cliff
we’ll flaunt them at diminished France.

Nick MacKinnon

Sing in the year with cheerful voice,
Its days are fresh, its nights also;
With eyes alight and cheeks aglow
Sing up, that being the hopeful choice.

Drown out the angst the newsmen sell,
Though plague and war may yet abide,
Your song will prove men can decide
To strive with heart to make all well.

The gusto that your song requires,
Heard by the mass sunk deep in fear,
Summons from introspection drear
A host of unsuspected choirs.

With words of joy and rhythmic drive
This new twelvemonth will be a breeze:
Even foul Fate will seem a tease
To songsters raucous and alive.

Adrian Fry

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring out the gloom, ring in the glee;
Ring in the dawn of twenty-three,
Ring out the dust of twenty-two.

Ring in the right, ring out the wrong,
Ring in the cure, ring out the flu;
Ring out the words that don’t ring true,
Ring in the joy, ring out in song.

Ring out the old year’s stains and dirt,
Ring out the scent that plagues the nose;
Ring in the laundry, wash your clothes,
Wring out your socks, wring out your shirt.

Ring in the cheer, ring out the scoff,
Ring out the sneer, ring in the grin;
Ring up your friends, ring up your kin,
Ring out, and if they jeer, ring off.

Alex Steelsmith

Ring out the old, ring in the new;
No matter that’s a tired cliché,
We mean it this year when we say
Vamoose to Twenty Twenty-Two!

Vale to lily-livered leaders
Ill-equipped to go the distance,
Justify their own existence,
Sybaritic bottom feeders.

Begone, sleek-sidling weasel-wits!
Bring forth the lions of common sense,
Robust integrity; dispense
With spineless, spinning hypocrites…

Seize hard the opportunity,
Our situation’s worse than bleak,
Without a paddle, up the creek
So Best Foot Forward, Twenty-Three!

Mike Morrison

The Speccie wants some cheerful verse?
Well, here’s the best that I can do:
‘With luck, it may not be much worse
Than bloody 2022.

With power cuts, and freezing cold,
Our fingers turning Tory-blue,
We’ll still ring out the precious old
In favour of the shoddy new.

And who’s the pup that we’ll be sold
As Britain’s next short-lived PM?
No doubt we’ll shrug, and say “I told
You so”, with proper British phlegm.

A crumb of comfort can be had:
Despite inflation, plague, and war,
It may turn out, however bad,
Less dire than 2024.’

Brian Allgar

No. 3284: Back to front

You’re invited to supply a topical short story that begins with the last line of a well-known novel (please specify), and ends with the first. Email entries of up to 150 words to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 25 January.