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722878Twas The Month After Christmas

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  • Bodie
    Dec 19, 2013
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       'Twas the month after Christmas, 
       and all through the house,
       Nothing would fit me,
       not even a blouse.
      The cookies I'd nibbled,
       the chocolate I'd taste
       At the holiday parties
       had gone to my waist.
      When I got on the scales
      there arose such a number!
      When I walked to the store
      (less a walk than a lumber),
      I'd remember the marvellous meals I'd prepared;
      The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
      The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
      And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
      As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
      And prepared once again to do battle with dirt...
      I said to myself, as I only can,
      "You can't spend a Summer, disguised as a man!"
      So, away with the last of the sour cream dip.
      Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.
      Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
      Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
      I won't have a cookie, not even a lick.
      I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
      I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie.
      I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
      I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore...
      But isn't that what January is for?
      Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
      Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet.