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Xmas 1973

He's fallen for it again,
after swearing by God's book,
his rogue mouth would halt
it's yearly stuff-athon.

Yet he's once more replete,
no, bursting forth, stuffed like
a Christmas bird; crackling,
cherries, berries,coat his lips,
cheeses of all description on
his plate and his tiny mouth
is doing its best to devour
it all.

Eyes glazed , mesmerized,
he's beckoned onward by
cheesy sirens, ensnared by
the chanson of glazed French
ham that is drawing him on to
the rocks of a thrombosis.

Yet there is no resistance.
Sweetmeats are singing his
final humiliation when barely
a few minutes away from now,
I will whisper in his ear in a
a cliche Gallic accent.

"Just another little cracker, dad,
just a teeny cracker more."

Editing stage: 


Like it! Memories of Christmas long ago, reminds of Christmas when I was first married.
Happy new year to you and yours.

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