TWAS THE NIGHT AFTER SEDER 

'Twas the night after Seder, and all through the
house Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse. 
The matzah, the farfel, the charoset I ate, 
After both the Sedarim, had gone to my waist. 
When I got on the scales there arose such a number! 
When I walked over to shul (less a walk than a lumber), 

I remembered the marvelous meals I'd prepared; 
The turkey with gravy, the beef nicely rared, 
The wine and the matzo balls, the Migdal pareve cheese 
The way I'd never said, "I've had enough; no more,
if you please." 
As I tied myself into my apron again 
I spied my reflection and disgustedly, then 
I said to myself, "you're such a weak wimp", 
"You can't show up at shul resembling a blimp!" 
So--away with the last of the meatballs so sweet , 
Get rid of the turkey, chopped liver and meat. 
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished

"Till all the additional ounces have vanished. 
I won't have any more macaroons from the box, 
I can't wait til next week. (Ah, the bagels and lox.) 
I won't have any luxion, farfel or p'chah, 
I'll munch on a carrot or wire shut my own jaw. 
It's a three day yom tov and shabbas is still 
Ahead of me with another fleshiks meal to fulfill. 
If I have to cook one more chicken, I think I will riot. 
So a zisn pesach to you all and to all a good diet!