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Christmas spirit was all over the house.
A day for a party, but with plenty of louse.
Ding-a-ling-bring-some-sling unseeing Dan
Came alone, which is always the best that he can.
He contributed chocolate fudge that was tasty and sweet.
For his amazing mother’s sugar cookies cannot be beat.

Candy cane crystals blinked in succession from the Christmas tree.
You want to know about everybody? I asked. Come sit by me.
Take a bite out of every piece of pie for corpulent Laura is back.
She drove up in a shanty of a Hackensack beer belly without any tack.
We knew now the party could truly begin, and possibly turn on a whim.
For she usually brings Enthusiastic Essie, her fun-loving, identical twin.

Christmas carols were being piped in courtesy of the host’s daughter.
Gladypipes herself is not here, absent after running off with a potter.
Watch out! Pompous unholy Lady of the Arrogance church is here.
Sitting alone in a corner, on her non-smelling, prissy stuck up rear.
Some of the newcomers have sat down, trying to make small talk.
Discovering she is as mean as they come with uplifted beak of a hawk.

Christmas party full swing now. People are gobbling up cakes and pie.
In the east, I see Jesus’s happy star, winking down from the sky.
Prissy non-listening glistening, kissening, fissening Man of the West.
Is flitting from young woman to old matron, flicking winks at the rest.
Most of us felines know him exceedingly well in a rather bad way.
He's dated every single one of us from twenty to forty; he likes to stray.
Another successful party, full of gusto and girth, gladness and giggles.
I write it all down quickly with juicy whorls, curls, and squiggles.

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