The old farmhouse exuded glee
While youth and elders strategized
Their Christmas celebration.
The merriment that overflowed
Infected fowl and beast.
In the barnyard peace ensued
And acrimony creased.
Except that is, one envious pig
Got up his porker dander
When he observed the peacock strut
Of one illustrious gander.
The gander overheard the cook,
Whose silvered-tongue was loose,
That if he plumped-up, he'd become
This seasons Christmas goose.
The whole farmhouse, both young and old,
At once began to pander,
Feeding this and bits of that
To fatten up the gander.
To be the Christmas goose MUST BE
The wish of every gosling.
For every inch his waistline grew,
More lustrous grew his goose dream.
With each applause and patted-back
And lofty gander praise,
The pig's hate exponentially grew
For all the gander's ways.
Pig quipped, to put him in his place,
"They're going to cook your goose."
Then added, while his nose-ring bobbed,
"You'll simmer in your juice."
And then to emphasize his point
They waddled to a window.
From underneath they overheard
The children's voices flow.
With sing-song voice they patty-caked
A chant that made him shiver.
"Pluck the fowl, discard the tail,
Take out his goosey-liver."
"Add peppercorns, season to taste,
Then truss him up with kite string.
Cook will roast the Christmas goose that's
Crammed with chestnut stuffing."
Then goose-bumps on the gander flared.
His face grew flushed, then paled.
A plan began to formulate
So he'd not be de-tailed.
With not a moment left to spare,
He donned clothes from the clothesline.
When cook went out to dress the fowl,
He hid behind the grapevine.
The cook, with kids and jealous pig,
Searched far all o'er the place
What started as a hunting crew
Wound up a wild-goose chase.
With nary a gander sighting
Of hide, nor hair or feather,
Cook then whipped up a Plan B
The children thought 'twas clever.
The gander near the window crept,
When deemed the coast was clear.
The children's chant a second verse?
Was music to his ears.
"Green-bean casserole, candied yams,
Pumpkin pie, and custard.
We'll pig out on Christmas ham
That's spiced with cloves and mustard."
Copyright Beth LaBuff 2013
Before Beth LaBuff and her husband, Tilman, moved to the high desert of Arizona, she lived most of her life surrounded by the cornfields of Adair County, Iowa.
Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! Click here and TRUST JESUS NOW
Read more articles by Beth LaBuff
Like reading Christian Articles? Check out some more options. Read articles in Free Reprints, Main Site Articles, Most Read Articles or our highly acclaimed Challenge Articles.
Or enter a keyword for a topic in the search box to search our articles.
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
The opinions expressed by authors do not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Hire a Christian Writer, Christian Writer Wanted, Christian Writer Needed, Christian Content Needed
Find a Christian Editor, Hire a Christian Editor, Christian Editor, Find a Christian Writer