Goomba Christmas Eve
’twas the night before Christmas, and my wife was nervous
’bout being on time for the Christmas Eve service.
The fam’ly had gathered at Amy and Pete’s
For genuine goomba Christmas Eve eats.
A big antipasto, as deep as a well,
Salami, prosciutto, and fresh mozzarell’,
Anchovies, red peppers, and sharp provolone,
Sweet supressata and hot pepperone.
Bruschetta and olives, and squirmy fried eel,
A crusty pannel’ that’s as big as a wheel.
Chianti, Barolo, and Valpolicella
Have all been brought up from the goomba wine cella.
Scungili and clams and ca-la-ma-‘ri
And all things that squiggle and swim in the sea
End up on the table as part of the fest
(the squid had been stuffed with my wife’s cookie press!).
Sauce of tomatoes, all steaming and hot
With tiny squid suction cups stuck to the pot.
Linguini with clam sauce, and sea-snail like rubber,
Lasagna with meatballs for any land-lubber.
The clams in a pie, the shrimp on a tray,
Squid tentacles squirm in the sauce where they lay.
The bacala salad brings tears to the eye,
I can’t convince my wife to give it a try.
Then out comes espresso, sambuca as well.
Pignoli cookies and fresh Sfogliatell’
Canoli and anisette toast you can dunk
In coffee so spiked, one cup gets you drunk.
As all were relaxin’, it started to snowin’
Then my wife called out, “It’s time to get goin’!”
Then up on the roof arose such a noise,
I jumped from my seat and woke up the boys.
Then what to my wondering eyes did appear?
A Santa in pinstripes, and eight goomba reindeer.
“Yo Vito, yo Ant’ny, yo Eugene, yo Sal,
yo Guido and Louie, yo Rocco, yo Al”
Then turning to me, he yelled “Bada Bing!
It’s time dat you went to da service ta sing!”
And I heard him exclaim from the roof top so crowded,