Twas the week after Christmas
and all through the house
Nothing would fit me,
not even a blouse.

The cookies I'd nibbled,
the eggnog I'd taste.
All the holiday parties
had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales
there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store
(less a walk than a lumber).

I'd remember the marvelous
meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces
and beef nicely rared,

The wine and the rum balls,
the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said,
"No thank you, please."

So--away with the last
of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruitcake,
every cracker and chip

Every last bit of food
that I like must be banished
Till all the additional
ounces have vanished.

I won't have a cookie--
not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew
on a long celery stick.

I won't have hot biscuits,
or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot
and quietly cry.

I'm hungry, I'm lonesome,
and life is a bore --
But isn't that what
January is for?

Unable to giggle,
no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all
and to all a good diet!