O luscious glistening currant bun
I really must admit,
I want to sink my teeth in you
But my trousers do not fit;
A fiend swapped out my wardrobe
In craven stealth of night
For near perfect copy of my clothes
In size a twitch too tight.
It might be that my waistband
Shrank in washing hot,
Though tell-all wrappers of festive food
Claim I ate the lot.