|
| |
Afters
Fourteen pounds; that’s a bucket of lard
And losing that shouldn’t be so hard
It’s turkey, pud and let’s not quibble
A pretty frequent midnight nibble
It’s one whole stone of belly fat
Inflating what was firm and flat
Slimline tonic won’t do that
So did I eat an alley cat?
Six-point-three-five Kilograms
Twice what sometimes fills our prams
Were I pregnant, for my sins
Could be that I’m toting twins
But I’ve had lots of Christmases
And I’m sure when I tell you this
Six weeks watching what I eat
Will make my tummy nice and neat
The trifle’s gone, as is the meat
All the savoury, all the sweet
It’s time to watch my waist deflate
With smaller servings on my plate
And so I put away the gin
And tonic with no sugar in
For gin gives me an appetite
That makes me nibble late at night
So, fourteen pounds; that is my goal
A resolution in my soul
But, by the gin, before my eyes
A box - unopened - of mince pies!
Copyright ©
Terry Flood
|
|