The Week after Christmas




T’was the week after Christmas and all through my home
There were tissues and aspirin and a husband who’d moan.

The stockings, once hung by the chimney with care,
Were flattened and crumbled and thrown anywhere.

Poor husband was nestled all snug in his bed
With a very sore throat and a cold in his head.

And I in my jammies, (with Papa in bed)
Had just settled down (after all animals were fed.)

When out on the street there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the sofa to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash!
(Knocked into a table which caused a small gash.)

The moon on the mud (it had rained night and day)
Made the front lawn look like a place pigs would play.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an Olds SUV filled with guests, I did fear.

Little old Aunt Annie and her divorced son, Gus
Had stopped by, the darlings, to visit with us.

More rapid than eagles boots trudged toward our door.
When I saw they’d brought kids, I sunk to the floor.

Through the mud and the muck more and more boots came.
Gus whistled and shouted and called them by name:

Now Barkley, now Gregory, now Dylan and Royce
Hurry up, get out of the mud and try to be good boys!

So up to the porch stoop Gus’s kids did fly
While I pulled on a robe just ready to cry.

Aunt Annie was dressed all in fur from her head to her boot
The kids were plain filthy as if playing in soot.

Cousin Gus had a buzz on and a 12-pack in his hand
He’d found a warm place, I feared, now to land.

His eyes they were bloodshot; his coat torn and hairy
His nose was as red as a maraschino cherry.

His mouth was a-yacking; he had lots to say
And the beard on his chin held food from yesterday.

He gave me a kiss with a breath that was smelly
And popped open a beer to maintain his big belly.

Soon his red-rimmed eyes and nodding head
Gave me to know I had something to dread.

The kids spoke not a word but went strait to the tree
Where they hung on the branches while screaming WHEEEEEEE.

I tried to be nice and to give them a hug
While watching the mud spots all over my rug.

I gave out some candy and served them some food
But they all were plain horrid, nasty and rude.

Then after laying a finger up into his nose
I was overjoyed the moment I saw Gus rose.

He grabbed Annie’s arm-- to the kids gave a whistle
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard Gus exclaim as he stumbled toward the Olds,
It’s not nice to have guests when you know you have colds.