Wrote this years ago, but I never learn, so it remains apropos.
Every year we sing about the 12 days of Christmas
But no one ever praises the next days of listlessness.
When you’ve gained five pounds and can’t fit in your jeans,
And you have more zits than you did in your teens.
Why don’t we ever remember the squeeze,
That was brought on by that last bite of cheese?
Or the arrival of bills for presents galore,
And things we “Just couldn’t leave in the store!”
It’s because of the hormones contained in the turkey,
It shrinks the brain and makes you feel quirky!
And ensures you forget the suffering that results,
Or the drunken family dinners with hurled insults.
Instead you remember the kids with their gifts,
Uncle Fred’s toupee and his shoes with the lifts.
So this is my tribute to the 30 days thereafter.
The turkey may be dead, but we’re the butt of his laughter.