December Poem

"It's orange duck for supper!" cried the chef,
"And then we'll watch some hockey!" He was glad
When no one challenged him: the goose was bad,
The Christmas music book in the wrong clef –
In any case, the carollers were deaf –
And he was sick of cooking Russian shad.
He didn't know how much sturgeon he had,
And, as he said, "My cousin is the ref!"

We sucked on bones, and grimly watched the game
Until he finally made us some cake,
If only just to prove that he could bake
Without those deep sighs, or attaching blame
To Russian coaches. Coaches are the same
In every country now, for heaven's sake.