Twas the Month After Christmas .....

The following poem was sent to me by my Irish friend Antonia whose sister Eleanor (after reading my blog) thought it might be appropriate.

*

Are you trying to tell me something, Eleanor?

*

*

Twas the month after Christmas...

*
Twas the month after Christmas,
and all through the house,

Nothing would fit me,

not even a blouse.

*

The biscuits I'd nibbled,

the chocolate I'd taste

All the christmas parties

had gone to my waist.

*

When I got on the scales

there arose such a number!

When I walked to the shops

(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

a man's extra-large shirt

And prepared once again

to do battle with dirt...

I said to myself,

as I only 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 fruit cake,

every cracker and chip.

Every last bit of food

that I like must be banished

Till all the additional

ounces have vanished.

*

I won't have a biscuit,

not even a lick.

I'll want only to chew

on a long celery stick.

*

I won't have hot chocolate,

or fresh rolls 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?

*

I'm unable to giggle,

life's no longer a riot.

Happy New Year to all,

and to all a good diet.