'Twas the Day After Christmas...

'Twas the Day After Christmas

By A Man Called Da-da


'Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the house
Every creature was stirring, even Da-da's spouse;
The stockings were strewn 'round the chimney with flair,
In hopes that Da-da would clean them up and not swear;

Home-from-school children were using stairs to test sleds,
While visions of past-due sums danced in Da-da's heads;
And mama in her 'kerchief, and Da-da filled with crap,
Had just cleared away the last piles of Christmas wrap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Da-da was forced by mama to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like succotash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up on the sash.

Outside, the sun on Da-da's bust of Henry David Thoreau
Conveyed absolutely no meaning... well, nothing apropos,
When, what to Da-da's crusty eyes should appear,
But a rabble of drunken relatives clanking bottles of cheer.

Dropped by a taxi driver, so lively and accomodative,
Da-da knew in a moment he wasn't a relative.
More vapid than paralegals the bloodsuckers they came,
As Uncle Nick whistled and shouted and called him a name;

"Hey, Da-da! Now, Da-da! You scale model of NIXON!
Get out here you bastard, we need somethin' fer mixin'!"
Quickly, Da-da ran from the porch to escape the wild brawl,
yelling, "Run away! Run away! Run away all!"

As dry heaves that come after the Wild Turkey flies,
When one dodges an obstacle meant to surprise,
So up to the house-top the drunkards they flew,
With a thirst the size of Illinois, and Uncle Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, Da-da heard on the roof
The dancing and pawing owed to drunks 90 proof.
As Da-da planned to disband and was turning around,
Down the chimney Da-da's relatives came with a bound.

They all smelled of liquor, from their head to their foot,
And their brains were all tarnished with something caput;
Their thirst, size of Illinois, they'd just unfurled as their tax,
When Uncle Nick started having one of his attacks.

His eyes -- how they goggled! his apostles how very!
His cheeks were like dozers, his nose like a ferry!
His whole spittled mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the things in his beard were all on the go;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The smoke of it smelled fresh from something beneath;
He had a gnawed face and quite a round belly,
That threatened to explode like gelignite jelly.

He was dumpy and plump and in rather bad health,
And Da-da tried to be pleasant, in spite of himself;
A wink of Nick's eye and a twist of his head,
Soon let Da-da know he had everything to dread;

The sots spoke not a word, but went straight to their work
Filling stockings with booze, going not quite berserk,
And pulling a booger from inside his nose,
Uncle Nick gave a nod, and out the front door he goes;

They all sprang to the taxi, to the driver gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a drunken epistle.
Da-da heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight,
THANKS FOR THE BOOZE, DON'T BE SO UPTIGHT!