Christmas is still fairly far away,
Yet Sam and I are getting our jollies.
Even as Thanksgiving Dinner looms,
We are eating homemade tamales!
There were no trick-or-treaters,
We felt forsaken and forlorn.
Then from above the night was saved,
By the one and only angel unicorn.
A wet, cold rainy Sunday,
Sammy fears she’ll catch the croup.
So we are snuggled down in bed,
Waiting on the crock-pot soup!
Sometimes I need the restroom,
And Sammy thinks I am mad at her.
She says I wouldn’t have to move,
If I simply got a catheter.
I am not the man I was,
Nor am I the man I will be.
So I guess I have to settle,
For being the man that is me.