'twas the night before thanksgiving And all thru the web The stummiks were grumbling And wanting to be fed, The pie porn was heavy, Then the ASMR chefs, Were transforming potatoes into bitesized, Crispy dipping balls, alongside the discussion Of the deviling of eggs, and quantity longed for. The music from nowhen, and twangy guitars, Home home on the keyboard, and talking of stars, Real stars, you know up in the heavens, And sourdough boulets Were waiting for morning, To lose their strange shapes, turn into stuffing, For millions of plates, when what to my wondering eye Should appear, but this cherry pie...
And all thru the web
The stummiks were grumbling
And wanting to be fed,
The pie porn was heavy,
Then the ASMR chefs,
Were transforming potatoes into bitesized,
Crispy dipping balls, alongside the discussion
Of the deviling of eggs, and quantity longed for.
The music from nowhen, and twangy guitars,
Home home on the keyboard, and talking of stars,
Real stars, you know up in the heavens,
And sourdough boulets
Were waiting for morning,
To lose their strange shapes, turn into stuffing,
For millions of plates, when what to my wondering eye
Should appear, but this cherry pie...