Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house
Lay piles of recipes, even one for roast grouse.
I gazed at the piles, and sighed heavy with care,
The perfect recipe I could not find there.
I peered in my frig at the turnips and breads,
Black olives and peppers in yellows, greens, and reds.
Oh what could I make for our Christmas day feast,
Roast ham and baked corn with rolls smelling of yeast?
I pondered and muttered then realized in a snap
My grand schemes were turning into an iron trap.
So I pulled out my crockpot, munched a cookie,
Looked through the piles and chose an old recipe.
This year on Christmas I’ll enjoy my family,
Let the crockpot work while I sit lazily.
On Christmas spend time with all those who you love
And remember Jesus, God’s present from above.
