A Christmas poem - please do not read if you are easily offended

Twas Christmas morn, I was boiling eggs
I?d been toiling on weary legs
For nigh on twenty hours now
And I had plenty of eggs to chow
For all the family at Christmas dinner
My boiled egg feast would be a winner
I counted the eggs and I was happy to see
That I had hard boiled seven hundred and three
There wouldn?t be room for turkey, oh no!
With an egg and an egg and an egg to follow
No trifle or pudding on our Christmas table
A hard boiled egg is more than able
For all at dinner to call out a festive cheer
?It?ll be hard boiled eggs for Christmas next year!?

Posted By: mickfoot, Dec 22, 00:11:00