A Christmas Tradition

The stockings are all hung
The tree is trimmed and lit
The turkey’s stuffed, the wine is poured,
Turn up the heat a bit.

The house is now quite quiet
Since dinner was promptly served
And because the relatives complained all night
They got what they deserved.

Father mistook the oven
For his king sized bed
Mother found it comfy
With a cleaver in her head

Uncle Jacob drank his poison
Thinking it was gin
Auntie Peg found nagging hard
When losing most her skin

Cousin Billy and Cousin Fran
With voices so dire
Found themselves roasted
Over an open fire.

And last there was Great Grandma
Ever made my head to ache.
Was chopped to bits and found her place
In the family’s formal rumcake.

Be well advised and take great heed
To the story I now relate
For you might meet a similar fate
If you say my cooking’s not great!

Add your comment

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.