'Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
> nothing would fit me, not even a blouse;
>
>
> The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste
> at holiday parties had gone to my waist
>
>
> When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
> When I walked to the store t'was merely 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."
>
>
> 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
> 'til all the additional ounces have vanished.
>
>
> I won't have a cookie--not even a lick.
> I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
>
>
> I won't have hot biscuits, 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 surely to God, that's what January's for.
>
>
> Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
> Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!
'Twas the Month After Christmas
