Twas the Day After Christmas
’Twas the day after Christmas and all through our split-level
Were the signs and the debris of our Christmasy revel;
The tree and the lights that we’d erected with care
Lay now in heaps and in tangles, in complete disrepair.
Not an adult was stirring; we were all comatose
From our Christmas-day turkey and stuffing overdose.
Still asleep in our beds while the kids ran amok
With their new games and their dollies and their little toy trucks.
But throughout the house a dreadful sound was soon heard,
A sound that sickened the heart like the vilest curse word.
It arose from the basement and swelled, as upward it soared:
’Twas the cry of the offspring announcing, “We’re bored!”
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