Eating Left Overs on a New Year’s Night
KARL WALLACE
Taw’s a New Year’s night but I just couldn’t sleep,
I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep.
The leftovers beckoned, the deserts and horsd’ouevres
I fought the temptation, with all of my might.
Tossing and turning with anticipation that night.
The thought of a snack became infatuation.
So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door,
I gazed in the fridge full of goodies galore.
I gobbled up turkey, potatoes, beans and more.
The cranberries were dripping down my chin.
Staining my night gown, as I ate some more,
I chomped on dressing, gobbled down a fowl’s thigh.
Dribbled a few grapes, devoured more pumpkin pie,
Had another sandwich, gave my dog one as well,
Continuing on with more late-night desserts.
Suddenly! I felt myself swelling, so plump and so round
Until all of a sudden, I rose off the ground
As I crashed through the ceiling, I screeched
“Pass, the cranberries, the lobsters too,”
My stomach was definitely letting me know.
When the stuffing is tasty, a gizzard is plump,
Potatoes and gravy have nary a lump,
The yams delicious, go ahead and eat
All the tasty treats on any New Year's day,
But for goodness sake, Not After Nine PM!
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