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Ode To Christmas Dinners! ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1992

I do like a nice bit of stuffing,
And chewing a firm, meaty breast;
Of course, I'm referring to Yule Tide,
As most of you probably guessed.
And so, as we fast approach Christmas
(That season of goodwill and peace)
My wife is preparing the turkey
To serve at the annual feast.

She thinks she's the Galloping Gourmet,
In total and utter control;
Attila the Hun would have faltered
If he'd seen her making Swiss Roll.
But still, I should really not grumble,
In some ways her cooking is fine;
It helps to discourage the neighbours,
And keeps the kids firmly in line.

So, what are we having for Christmas?
The same as last year, I would bet;
Now there was a meal to remember,
Whatever we did to forget.
We all had some neeps and some brussels,
Though no-one at first realised.
We thought: "That's an odd looking gravy!"
Then learned that they'd been liquidised.

Roast tatties were done in their jackets,
Skins tempered like Krupp's hardest steel;
They ricocheted over an hour,
(Quite ruined my chain-saw, as well!)
But then, when it came to the turkey,
The outside was brittle and charred,
And after I'd chiselled the legs off
Bliss! Joy! The inside's just as hard.

One thing, though, I know she can't ruin -
Flambe Christmas pud, hot and sweet;
Though crisp when it comes out the oven,
Some petrol still burns it a treat.
Yes, I'm so looking forward to Christmas,
I've had all my wisdom teeth capped
And spring-loaded molars replacing
The ones at the back that have snapped.

As for next year - now, that's different!
You won't find me dour and glum
But waiting with relish for Christmas -
We're going down South, to my Mum!



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