THE NEW AMERICAN WORD

December 28, 2001

Of all the gifts that Santa has brought,
There is none that counts so much for naught,
As this one named by a brand new word:
Santa has brought me a case of the gird!

Christmas dainties all stacked on the table,
And here I am, eating more than I'm able,
Destructing that muscle, the stomach's small door,
As my stomach cries out, "I can't eat more!"

And sure enough the cookies back through it
As my taste buds say, "Eat more; you can do it!"
I listen to them, which is simply absurd,
And so, here I am with a case of the gird!

So acid comes back, along with the cookie,
Saying, "Boy, Oh Boy! I'll eat this rookie!"
My poor esophagus cries out in remorse,
As minute by minute I get more hoarse!

What kind of friends would bring all this stuff,
Which pampers my ego, but makes me feel tough!
I'll package this stuff, like a wise ol' bird,
Return it for New Years, and give them the gird!