Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The leftovers stuffed the refrigerator with care
in hopes that the big eaters soon would be there.
The groans and the moans were echoing round
from all the overfed people just beginning to sound.
And I in my night coat moaned and rolled over
even as it was announced that it was time to do over.
Why oh why did we eat all that pie
and the plates of food piled so high.
There was nothing to do but dig in again
to remove the trembling mounds of leftovers from the food chain.
From out of the kitchen there arose such a clatter
and who should appear but an elf with a platter.
“I’m sorry to say, but it is time to begin,
you really do need to eat yet again”.
On ham and potatoes and casseroles high
we added the rest of the food with a sigh.
With a final groan of delight
we stuffed on the remains of last night.
It came to an end like a battering ram
when faced with the remains a three week old ham.
We agreed to a man
that we weren’t going to touch that again.
(With apologies to real poets and Clement Clark Moore.)