Stuffed
I’m always so amazed at how much food fits in our fridge
We always get too much to feed one wife, one dog, two kids
Every Christmas it’s such an astounding thing to see
But not quite as astounding as how much food fits in me
I briefly left the table, slung a log upon the fire
When I sat back down I swear my food was piled higher
I still debate how all our plates were portioned evenly
And yet the last to finish always turns out to be me
I’m bloated in the armchair, I couldn’t eat a bean
How was it done that everyone had left their plates so clean
And so I’m stuffed, I’ve had enough, my wife don’t seem to care
She says you gonna have some pudding and I say... Oh yeah!
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