The Week Before Christmas (Egg Nogg Pie)
The Week Before Christmas (Egg-Nogg Pie)
'Tis the week before Christmas, and every good cook,
Is sitting and tumbing her recipe book;
She's looking for things to feed her family and friend,
And hopes that the family budget will bend;
The children are anxious and out of their heads
'Cuz visions of all-those-gifts dance in their heads;
And Mamma in her kitchen, with book in her lap,
Knows she doesn't have time for a long winter's nap.
At last she decides what will make them much fatter,
And springs from her stool to make egg-nog pie batter.
Away to the cupboard she flew like a flash,
Tore open the boxes, but didn't get rash!
The beam of the smile on her new thoughtful face,
Gave a feeling of kindness to those in the place.
Then, what in her glistening hands did appear
But a nine-inch pie pan greased up like a mirror.
With three beaten egg yolks, not stiff and not dry,
I knew in a moment she would make her pie.
More rapid than eagles her ingredients came,
And she whistled, and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Sugar! Now, Light Cream! Now, Nutmeg and Salt!
On, Vanilla! On, Extract! On, Egg White! Then halt!
Now, down in the bowl! Do not let it fall!
Then stir away! Stir away! Stir away, all!
As good cooks will do with the twink of an eye,
She stirred and she beated that egg-nog pie,
She knew that the egg-white had to be dry, With the fluffy white peaks, mounted so high.
And the, in a twinkling, she turned on the heat -
Four hudnred fifty degrees can't be beat.
But she knew in head, as she turned around,
That ten minutes later, 'twould have to come down.
To three hundred fifty, and no higher put,
Or her pie would be tarneished with ashes and soot;
The bundles of stuff she had flung in her bowl
Now took shape like a rosebud, just opening up whole.
Her eyes - how they twikled! Her dimples, how merry!
As she's making goodies for her Tom and Jerry!
Her little round outh is drawn up like a bow
And her teeth tightly clenched are as white as the snow;
The end of the spoon she holds tight in her hand,
And the air, it is circled with smells mightly grand;
She takes a deep breath and her round little belly
It shakes as she stirs, like a bowl full of jelly.
She is happy and calm, a good kind of feeling,
For at Christmas it's the best thing, to keep you from reeling,
From all of the stuff clanging in on one
Soon gives you to know nothing else can be done;
So she spoke not a workd, but kept straight at her work,
And filled all the pie-shells; then turned with a jerk,
And laying them gently inside of the stove,
Then closing the door, she began to rove.
She circled her kitchen, she gave a big sigh,
For she knew 'twould be gone ere next week was nigh.
yet, she had to exclaim, from her joy within,
"Happy Christmas to all,
And God bless our kitchen!"
'Tis the week before Christmas, and every good cook,
Is sitting and tumbing her recipe book;
She's looking for things to feed her family and friend,
And hopes that the family budget will bend;
The children are anxious and out of their heads
'Cuz visions of all-those-gifts dance in their heads;
And Mamma in her kitchen, with book in her lap,
Knows she doesn't have time for a long winter's nap.
At last she decides what will make them much fatter,
And springs from her stool to make egg-nog pie batter.
Away to the cupboard she flew like a flash,
Tore open the boxes, but didn't get rash!
The beam of the smile on her new thoughtful face,
Gave a feeling of kindness to those in the place.
Then, what in her glistening hands did appear
But a nine-inch pie pan greased up like a mirror.
With three beaten egg yolks, not stiff and not dry,
I knew in a moment she would make her pie.
More rapid than eagles her ingredients came,
And she whistled, and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Sugar! Now, Light Cream! Now, Nutmeg and Salt!
On, Vanilla! On, Extract! On, Egg White! Then halt!
Now, down in the bowl! Do not let it fall!
Then stir away! Stir away! Stir away, all!
As good cooks will do with the twink of an eye,
She stirred and she beated that egg-nog pie,
She knew that the egg-white had to be dry, With the fluffy white peaks, mounted so high.
And the, in a twinkling, she turned on the heat -
Four hudnred fifty degrees can't be beat.
But she knew in head, as she turned around,
That ten minutes later, 'twould have to come down.
To three hundred fifty, and no higher put,
Or her pie would be tarneished with ashes and soot;
The bundles of stuff she had flung in her bowl
Now took shape like a rosebud, just opening up whole.
Her eyes - how they twikled! Her dimples, how merry!
As she's making goodies for her Tom and Jerry!
Her little round outh is drawn up like a bow
And her teeth tightly clenched are as white as the snow;
The end of the spoon she holds tight in her hand,
And the air, it is circled with smells mightly grand;
She takes a deep breath and her round little belly
It shakes as she stirs, like a bowl full of jelly.
She is happy and calm, a good kind of feeling,
For at Christmas it's the best thing, to keep you from reeling,
From all of the stuff clanging in on one
Soon gives you to know nothing else can be done;
So she spoke not a workd, but kept straight at her work,
And filled all the pie-shells; then turned with a jerk,
And laying them gently inside of the stove,
Then closing the door, she began to rove.
She circled her kitchen, she gave a big sigh,
For she knew 'twould be gone ere next week was nigh.
yet, she had to exclaim, from her joy within,
"Happy Christmas to all,
And God bless our kitchen!"
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