‘Twas veinticinco de mayo, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, except her cat and its mouse.
The remotes were all laid, by the TV with care,
In hopes the Bluth Family would soon be there.

She stared at the ceiling lying restless in bed,
While visions of stair cars danced in her head.
She remembered Tobias with his cut-off shorts,
And Barry Zuckerkorn’s fear, of law and all courts.

She thought of Steve Holt and of G.O.B.’s rope ladder,
Maybe George Michael will be Maeby’s love matter.
Reminiscing of Lindsay and her desire for cash,
She then thought of Lucille Bluth’s fur coat stash.

The grown man with a hook-hand never did know,
When to leave his mother’s house or when to grow.
Yes Buster was my favorite with his oblivious cheer,
Stemming from mother issues, a “loose seal” frontier.

Of course there was Michael with his great deal of patience,
The Sudden Valley development: arrested with complacence.
Then Jeffrey Tambor from jail would demand, how
One should seek refuge in the banana stand.

The girl grew tired and began to drift off to sleep,
Memories of Bluths mingled with dreams of deep.
She awoke the next morning, and sprung out of bed,
Swung her feet to the floor, and excitedly said…

“Netflix, you beautiful Internet thing!
Please let me login: Oh the joy it’ll bring!”
Opening Netflix; she smiled and teared,
As she watched as the Bluth’s last season appeared.