(The following was written in 1986 while serving as the pastor of Lindale United Methodist Church. Since that time, numerous individuals in a variety of congregations have kindly tried to convince me that I simply have not ever had a really good sample of the item described in my poem. While I appreciate all of their efforts, I’m afraid that my opinion stands as originally expressed. And now that fruitcake is simply 26 years older…)

I hope that I shall never make
A food so awful as Christmas fruitcake.
All full of nuts and fruits and such,
But all stuck together, much too much.
In fact, it’s quite a puzzle why
With all that sticky, the thing’s so dry!

Oh, I know all about its making,
All the chopping, all the baking
And though they say it’s made with love,
They come from below, and not from above.
Despite the claims that this be manna,
We all know it’s from Corsicana.

In fact, a little doubt persists
That only one such cake exists
In all the world, and every year
It’s passed around to stifle cheer.
To ruin tastebuds here and there
And upset stomachs everywhere.

From house to house that ONE cake’s sent
(For no one really likes its scent)
From friend to friend it goes around
Until it’s crisscrossed all the town,
And every Christmas, it’s one year older
Its sticky pungency all the bolder.

So tell me, friends, be honest now
And speak the truth– come, take your vow:
Of all the things you REALLY hate
Is there anything worse
Than Christmas fruitcake?