The poor, lonesome turkey was walking that day
Back in the woods 'midst the fog from the frost.
Ruffling his feathers, then starting to say,
"Looks like another Thanksgiving is lost!"
You see, the poor turkey was orphaned at birth
And hadn't a friend in the whole of the wood.
Thus was it daily he longed for some mirth,
Longed for companionship he could call, "good."
Then parting the mist with a gun and a smile
A puritan man, looking bony and gaunt.
He invited ol' Tom to his house for awhile,
Precisely the thing that the turkey did want.
And so they walked off through the fog shrouded wood,
The both of them happy for what lay in store.
The man for the meat that would soon be his food,
The turkey for friendship ne'er tasted before.