******************************************

Christmas Colic

I do believe good Mistress Jones
  My wife--the gracious creature,
At telling one how he should do,
  Surpasses any preacher.

She kindly whispered, "Now my dear
  We trust you'll not be ailing,
But this is Christmas turkey time,
  And--well, you know your failing."

I thanked her for such kind regard,
  But thought it rather formal;
Assured her I was feeling fine,
  My appetite was normal.

So every thing was done up brown;
  That fowl was a beauty,
With jelly, pie preserves and cake
  From snowy white to sooty.

Good turkey sop and fatty bread
  Oh, what mortal blessing;
For real creature comfort though,
  Just give me turkey dressing.

I woke at 10 o'clock p.m.,
  In dire desperation,
Longed for a noted specialist--
  A speedy operation.

With draughts and drugs was freely dosed,
  While I in pain was puffing;
The lady, Mistress Jones, remarked:
  "Perhaps you'd like some stuffing."

I danced a reel around the room
  And on the bed did flounder;
"Oh yes!" she said; "I told you so,
  It's just old fashioned founder."

Now may we all when Christmas comes
  Be full of fun and frolic,
Good will and happiness besides
  But not of Christmas colic.