Wednesday, November 21, 2012

pre-thanksgiving poem

With the help of my Play Cousin I wrote a special Pre-Thanksgiving poem. Share it with your family and friends next year.

The night before Thanksgiving.

'Twas the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the house
we were busy at work like a cat chasing a mouse.
The kitchen was clean and fridge crammed with care
In preparation for all the people who would soon be there.

The children were asleep and comfy in bed
with visions of turkey legs dancing in their heads.
And mom in her head scarf and I in a cap
had finally settled our minds for a three hour nap.

When out on the lawn something was the matter,
so we hurried to see what was all that clatter.
Appearing out of nowhere in such a flash,
was a giant turkey covered in ash.

The moon highlighted the lack of snow
surrounding the turkey in the grass below.
Just as suddenly as the turkey did appear
was also a chicken and a duck so near.

With a lively little step set about so quick,
the three fowls did move like they were sick.
More rapid than eagles these future meals came.
They greeted each other with a nice little name.

"Hey Peter the turkey." "Hey Henrietta you chicken vixen."
"How goes it old Marlon Ducky McDickson."
"To the top of the house to the city's mall;
we've got to escape this day if we want to survive at all."

Just as soon as they spoke they all started to fly,
but they met with obstacles I shall tell you why.
The turkey couldn't fly, and the chicken couldn't too.
Both their wings had been clipped and covered in glue.

So in a twinkling, they climbed on the roof.
Their prancing and pawning made it sound like they had a hoof.
At first, they didn't see us until they turned around.
Soon as they did the fear made them hit the ground.

Their feathers were ruffled, and one landed on my foot.
I could tell which was the turkey because of the soot.
The chicken starting clucking and landed on her back.
The duck and turkey jumped like a wild pack.

Extra birds at Thanksgiving dinner would make us all merry.
Imagine the chicken stuffed with cranberry.
The light on the duck made him shine and glow.
The turkey would look delicious with a pie though.

I could feast on chicken bones and chew with my teeth,
and use all their feathers to make a Christmas wreath.
On Thanksgiving evening, I'd have a full belly,
and I could eat leftovers with a cranberry jelly.

They were chubby and plumb and would look great on a shelf.
I had to capture them because couldn't help myself.
With a wink to my love and a twist of my head,
I soon knew these fouls would definitely be dead.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
and snuck up on the trio who turned with a jerk.
By laying a finger upside their head and nose,
and giving a nod my pistol and butcher knife rose.

My love sprang to action when I gave a whistle.
The kids jumped out too when they heard a pistol.
Instead, I explained once they were in sight.
Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night

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