Funkypages.com - T'was The Month After Christmas
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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 eggnog I'd taste;
- At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
- Then 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 marvelous 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 once again to battle with dirt,
- I said to myself, as only I can,
- "You can't I spend a winter disguised as a man!"
- So away with the last of the sour cream dip,
- Get rid of the fruitcake, every cracker and chip.
- Every last bit of food that I like must be banished.
- 'til 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 cornbread, or pie,
- I 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!
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