'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 the holiday 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 marvelous 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."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt,
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt.
I said to myself, as I only can,
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"
