Boxes

'Twas the day after Christmas
And all through the home
Not one thing was stirring
Not even a Gnome

The alcohol glassware
Showed signs of hard use
The tree dark and leafy
Looked sort of chartreuse

So now came the horror
Shot through with despair
Of cleaning and tidying
The mess everywhere

What saved the mind
Of each sentient one
Was the idea of boxing —
Containerish fun

You get out the crates
And the baggies and boxes
And stash all the loot
The spare crackers and sockses

You bundle the stuff
In the back of your car
And drive down to where
The charitables are

And hey all that 'junk'
Which you first-world despise
Makes happiness elsewhere
At reas'nable price