Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a platter was empty certainly not in this house.
The pans were hung by the stove with care in hopes that the cook would soon be there
The turkey was nestled all snug in its brine with hopes that it was soon to be fried
Mama in her apron and I in my coat had just finished prepping to feed all the folks
When out of the fridge there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my place to see what what was the matter
Away to the fridge I flew like a flash tore open the door and pushed back the hash
The lightbulb shone on the fresh food below giving contrast and depth to objects that glow
When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a container that fell over for it was loud enough to hear.
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