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Oh, I can’t wait for Christmas to come and the food it always brings.
Aunt Margaret with the Candied Puffs and Edna’s Boston Creams.
The table fare is so sublime, it tempts me so each day,
My Doctor says stay back from it, at least three feet away.
But I can dream of Pumpkin Pies and cakes with Coconut,
Inside my mind they all speak to me, I wish I could shut them up.
I’m haunted ,I am, by the special treats ,Eggnog and Turkey leg
If I stoop much lower ,than I am of late, I guess I’ll have to beg.
Doctors, what do they know, of my sweet tooth or its fate,
You would think to eat a Macaroon ,I’d double my own weight.
So off I go with Chex-Mix ,to the tree I’m always sent,
I never gripe I just fade away and dine on canes of peppermint.
There is no moral hidden here or rules by which you must play,
I bide my time for the leftovers and then there’s always New Years Day