Tweet
A Woman's Version of the Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen
I was cooking and baking and moanin and bitchin,
I've been here for hours, I can't stop to rest
This room's a disaster, just look at this mess.
Tomorrow I've got thirty people to feed
They expect all the trimmings, who cares what I need,
My feet are both blistered, I've got cramps in my legs
The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.
There's a knock at the door and the telephone's ringing
Frosting drips on the counter as the microwave's dinging,
Two pies in the oven, dessert's almost done
My cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.
I've had all I can stand, I can't take anymore
Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor,
He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady
Then grins as he chuckles "The eggnog is ready!"
He looks all around and with total regret, says"
What's taking so long....aren't you through in here yet?"
As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
He loses an earlobe; I wanted his life!
He flees from the room in terror and pain
And screams, "My God woman, you're going insane"
Now what was I doing, and what is that smell?
Oh darn, it's the pies! They're burned all to hell!
I hate to admit when I make a mistake
But I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE,
What else can go wrong? Is there still more ahead?
If this is good living, I'd rather be dead.
Lord, don't get me wrong, I love holidays
It just leaves me exhausted, all shaky and dazed,
But I promise you one thing, if I live 'til next year
You won't find me pulling my hair out in here.
I'll hire a maid,
A cook, and a waiter
And if that doesn't work,
I'LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED!
I was cooking and baking and moanin and bitchin,
I've been here for hours, I can't stop to rest
This room's a disaster, just look at this mess.
Tomorrow I've got thirty people to feed
They expect all the trimmings, who cares what I need,
My feet are both blistered, I've got cramps in my legs
The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.
There's a knock at the door and the telephone's ringing
Frosting drips on the counter as the microwave's dinging,
Two pies in the oven, dessert's almost done
My cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.
I've had all I can stand, I can't take anymore
Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor,
He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady
Then grins as he chuckles "The eggnog is ready!"
He looks all around and with total regret, says"
What's taking so long....aren't you through in here yet?"
As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
He loses an earlobe; I wanted his life!
He flees from the room in terror and pain
And screams, "My God woman, you're going insane"
Now what was I doing, and what is that smell?
Oh darn, it's the pies! They're burned all to hell!
I hate to admit when I make a mistake
But I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE,
What else can go wrong? Is there still more ahead?
If this is good living, I'd rather be dead.
Lord, don't get me wrong, I love holidays
It just leaves me exhausted, all shaky and dazed,
But I promise you one thing, if I live 'til next year
You won't find me pulling my hair out in here.
I'll hire a maid,
A cook, and a waiter
And if that doesn't work,
I'LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED!
Comment