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‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the tent Not a creature was stirring – all were spent. The knives were laid out on the counter with care, A haze of sweet smelling smoke filled the air. Then what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a big, scruffy guy, holding a beer. His beard was red and oh so thick, I knew in a moment it wasn’t Saint Nick. And more rapid than eagles his team members came, As he shouted “I Smell Smoke!!!” and each team member’s name. And so out to the cooker the team members flew, With their arms full of lettuce and curly parsley too. To the cooker he came with a leap and a bound, He was dressed all in flannel and his belly was round. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And pulled out the meat, then turned with a jerk. He filled the container with piles of pork, Slices and strands, which he pulled with a fork. And I heard them exclaim, as they always joke, Bring the judges our meat – I Smell Smoke!!! |
