'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,
All the festive parties had gone
to my waist.
When I got on the scales and saw
my new weight
,
I began to regret the amounts on
my plate.
I'd remember the marvellous meals
we’d prepared,
The gravies and sauces and beef
nicely rared,
The wine and the turkey, the
bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said,
"No thank you, please."
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
,
'Til all the additional ounces
have vanished.
I won't have the shortbread - not
even a lick,
I'll want only to chew on a
celery stick.
I won't have hot pancakes, potato
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.
I say cheers to you all on your
New Year diet.
But before all the calorie
counting begins,
There is one last good meal to
eat for our sins.
To have you all here is a joy and
delight
As we celebrate Burns and eat haggis tonight.
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