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by Dean Goulet
©1998
It was the day after Grossmas, and all through my head,
the hammers were pounding, and I wished I were dead.
My thoughts are all jumbled, my memory fuzzy,
I thought I saw Elvis, Nah... he wasn't there, was he?

I think I'm awake, or maybe still sleeping,
In the bathtub at someone I remember us peeping..
I stumble the halls in search of the potty,
my eyes all glazed over and the world is all spotty.

From my mouth there arises a foul, fetid odor,
like belches unspoken, like smoke from a motor.
And then as I stand there, the mirror screams foul!
There are spuds in my moustache, and groans from my bowel.

I vaguely remember the prior nights fare,
I must have had chicken, its stuck in my hair.
I must have had fun, or at least I tried,
I think of the thousands of brain cells that died.

So to you gross people, a toast, raise your glass!
The worlds gone to hell and it can all kiss my ass!
To Grossmas, To Grossmas, so fun and so merry --
To Grossmas, To Grossmas Damn Voort sure is hairy!

So end here I must, such is the pity.
Was it just me, or did our waitress have cute.. bangs....

Grossmas - Home     Grossmas Culinary Festivities     The Night Before Grossmas     The Day After Grossmas     The Grossmas Tree     Grossmas Carols     The Gross Pictures