Twas the month after Christmas
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;
All 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 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 once again to battle with dirt,
I said to myself, as only I can,
"You can't 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!
Thanks Bob Williams....