Tis’ the day after Christmas and all through our rooms,
Not a light is a twinkling, no holiday tunes.
Boxes are strewn ’bout the chimney in a race.
The movers are coming, we must pick up our pace!
The babies are climbing, and racing ’round free.
We hope that they’re safe, there’s just no time to see.
Two cars have been sold, traded in for a van,
So we can travel in comfort…at least that’s the plan.
Two babies, two dogs, a husband and wife,
Stopping off first in Kingman, Oh my! What a life!
Next on our list, to ring in the New Year,
A motel off the highway in Albuquerqueer.
These are only the first of the stops on our route.
The others will make themselves known as they suit.
The whole country before us, there’s no way to know
What bumps we may hit or what joys are to show.
One fact does remain, there’s still quite a clutter.
This unsightly mess would make anyone shudder.
There’s so much to do, so much stuff to bring.
It seems our belongings are multiplying.
If only we had just one more pair of hands,
A mommy perhaps would help things go as planned
But, alas she has shut herself far, far away,
To write some bad poetry and drink cabernet.