The Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen;
I was cooking and baking and moanin and bitchin’.
I’ve been here for 8 hours, I can’t stop to rest.
This rooms a disaster, just look at this mess!
Tomorrow I’ve got thirty five people to feed.
They expect all the trimmings. Who cares what I need!
My feet are both blistered, I’ve got cramps in my legs.
The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.
There’s a knock at the door and the telephones ringing;
frosting drips on the counter as the microwaves dinging.
Two pies in the oven, desserts almost done;
my cookbook is soiled with butter and crumb.
I’ve had all I can stand, I can’t take any more.
Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor.
He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady;
then grins as he chuckles, The egg nog is ready!
He looks all around and with little respect,
says, What’s taking so long..Aren’t you through in there yet?
As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
I scratch his left earlobe; I wanted his life!
He flees from the room in terror and pain
and screams, MY GOD WOMAN, YOU’RE GOING INSANE!!
Now what was I doing and what is that smell?
Oh darn its the pies! They’re burning I yell!
I hate to admit when I make a mistake,
but I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.
What else can go wrong? Is there still more ahead?
If this is good living, just shoot me instead.
Lord, don’t get me wrong, I love holidays;
It just leaves me exhausted, all shakey and dazed.
But I promise one thing, if I live ‘til next year,
you won’t find me pulling my hair out in here.
I’ll hire a maid, a cook and a waiter;
and if that doesn’t work I’ll have it all catered.