Dropped the Moon: POEM FOR BURNS NIGHT BY ME

Wednesday 25 January 2017

'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

Dropped the Moon