Twas the month after Christmas,
and all through the house,
Nothing would fit me,
not even a blouse.
The dips that I'd nibbled,
the champagne that I'd taste
At the Christmas parties
had gone to my waist.
When 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, potatoes and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the puddings and cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my fat pants and shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt...
I said to myself, as I only can,
"You can't spend all Summer, disguised as a man."
So, away with the last of the smoked salmon 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 kilos have vanished.
I won't eat that ice-cream, not even a lick.
I'll just have to chew on a celery stick.
I won't have hot bread, or chocolate, 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.
Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet.
:wg,s:
Home 
:wg,s: :wg,s: :wg,s: :wg,s: :wg,s: :wg,s:
.