Ole and Lena's Favorite Xmas Tunes

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Re: Ole and Lena's Favorite Xmas Tunes

Post by Riddick » 12-22-2016 06:45 AM


O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk
I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas
Yingle Bells


'Twas the night before Christmas, with things all a hustle,
As Momma got set for the Christmas Eve tussle,
Aunts, Uncles and Cousins were all coming here,
To fill up their stomachs with Christmas eve cheer.

I sat alone with a feeling of dread,
As visions of lutefisk danced in my head.
The thought of the smell made my eyeballs start burning,
The thought of the taste set my stomach to churning.

For I'm one of those who Norwegians rebuff - - -
A Scandihoovian boy who can't stand the stuff!
Each year, however, I play at the game,
To spare Momma and Papa the undying shame.

I must bear up bravely; I can't take the risk
Of relatives knowing I hate lutefisk!
I know they would spurn me, my presents withold
If the unthinkable, unspeakable truth they were told!

Soon from the kitchen an odor came stealing,
An odor that set my senses to reeling.
The smell of lutefisk crept down the hall and wilted a plant,
in a pot on the wall.

The others reacted as though they were smitten,
While the aroma laid low my small helpless kitten.
Uncles Oscar and Lars said, "Oh, that smells yummy!"
While Aunt Olga just beamed as she patted her tummy.

The scent skipped off the ceiling as it came through the door,
And the bird in the cuckoo clock fell on the floor.
Momma announced dinner by ringing a bell,
And they rushed to the table with a whoop and a yell.

I lifted my eyes to heaven and sighed,
And a rose on the wallpaper withered and died.
With unhurried pace I went to my chair,
And sat down in silence with an unseeing stare.

Most of the food was already in place,
There only remained the lutefisk space.
Then in it came - - - you could just hear the drools,
You would think that the bowl held Norway's crown jewels!

Then Momma lifted the cover on that steaming dish,
And I was face to face with that quivering fish.
"Me first!", I heard Uncle Sven call,
While I watched the paint as it peeled from the wall.

The plates were passed for Papa to fill,
I waited, in agony, between fever and chill.
He would dip in the spoon and hold it up high,
It oozed on the plates - - - I thought I would die!

Then came my plate, and to my fevered brain,
There seemed enough lutefisk to derail a train.
It looked like a mountain of congealing glue,
Oddly transparent, yet discolored in hue.

With butter and cream sauce I tried to conceal it,
But wouldn't you know, the smell would reveal it!
I drummed up my courage; I tried to be bold.
Momma said, "Eat it before it gets cold."

I decided to try it - - - "Uff da", I sighed.
"Uff da, indeed", my stomach replied.
Then I summoned that courage for which Norskies are known,
My hand took the fork with a mind of its own.

With reckless abandon, that lutefisk I ate,
Within twenty seconds, I cleaned up the plate.
Uncle Oscar then flashed me an ear-to-ear grin,
While butter and cream sauce dripped from his chin,

Then to my surprise, he said in my ear,
"I'm sure glad that's done for another year!"
It was then that I learned a wonderful truth,
That Swedes and Norwegians from young men to youth,

Must each pay their dues to have the great joy,
Of being known as a good Scandihoovian boy!
And so to you all, as you face the test,
Happy Smorgasbord to you, and to you all my best!

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