T’was the Month After Christmas
T’was the month after Christmas, and all through the house,
Nothing would fit me, Not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibble, the eggnog I’d taste,
From holiday parties Had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales, there arose such a number!
I walked to the store, But oh, what a bummer!
I remembered the marvelous meals I’d prepared;
The gravy and sauces, and beef nicely rared.
Fruit cakes and rum balls, the breads and the cheese,
And the way I never said; “No thank you, please!”
So, away with the last of the sour cream dips,
Get rid of the date squares, the crackers and chips.
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 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,
A Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet.
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