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!