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.
3 comments:
May your day be filled with the mirth of the clan
As you gather together to give thanks to this land
With piles of maize, potato's and squash
Stuffing and berries and cider awash
To all in your house the Lords blessing I wish
Happy Thanksgiving -- this day of overstuffed bliss.
Well done!
But technically, the Pilgrims were Separatists--separating from the Church of England--not Puritans, who desired to purify the C of E. :^)
Well played, John. And a happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
BB, nope, it's no good. It needs to have the appropriate number of syllables. Pilgrim misses the mark. (It sins!)
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