'Twas Four nights after Christmas

Twas four nights after Christmas

And all through each room

I had searched with great rigour

But not found a spoon

Recycling piled in a blue council sack

In hope that the bin men 

Would one day come back

With a little old driver so lively and quick

That he would not notice 

I'd thrown out a brick.

And then in a twinkling

 I suddenly thought

What if with the rubbish

my spoons had got caught?

I sprang to my feet and outside with a bound

I searched through the garbage

Until I had found

All wrapped in a bowl

with the last of a jelly

A fish eye, some peelings 

and something else smelly

A spoon I'd discarded

In moment'ry lapse

Or somebody else had -

more likely perhaps!

And laying my fingers 

Each side of my nose

I picked up the spoon

That the bin had exposed

My droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow

I now had a spoon and was ready to go

I whistled and shouted and turning around

Exclaimed to my husband

"Just look what I've found!"

"Your clothes are all tarnished,

get out of my sight. 

I'll buy you a spoon for next Christmas.

Goodnight"