Christmas Poem

Always at this time of year,
We share the same old Christmas cheer.
But this year, my parents tried something new
With an official seal from the Cordon Bleu.
We skipped the usual dinner dance
And my parents took us all to France.

This year, my father changed his name to Gerard.
He wore a chef�s hat on our Christmas card.
Our tree looked like the Eiffel Tower
While we waited for the dinner hour.
As the children drank their Shock-O-Lots, �
Adults sipped fine wine, like some big shots.

Joyeux Noel my mother said
In a red beret as she made French bread.
With all the cheeses, truffles, and pates,
It looked like they had cooked for days.
Foods I had never seen before
Came from the local grocery store.

A croaking sound came from the kitchen.
Don�t worry, said Gerard, they�ll taste like chicken.�
When he saw how I was confused
He shook his head and looked amused.
You�ll enjoy what we�re having here.�
But his assurance didn�t calm my fear.

Instead of chestnuts and mistletoe,
Chef Gerard made escargot.
Resting in their garlic shells,
They�re known at home as garden snails.
And there was a large pot they called ragout
That I learned too late was rabbit stew.

As special as this Christmas went,
It�s not like others had been spent.
I missed my turkey and my ham,
Gravy, stuffing, and candied yams.
I don�t want frogs� legs any more.
I want Christmas like before.

Mom, dad, I wish you would take back your given names.
Next year, let�s stay home and play the usual reindeer games.
And also, I hope you both will put those hats away.
At Christmas-time at least, I�d rather not parle Francais.�

What I Don't Want For Christmas by Jim Beasley @FamilyFriendPoems

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