TWAS THE NIGHT OF THANKSGIVING,
BUT I JUST COULDN'T SLEEP.
I TRIED COUNTING BACKWARDS;
I TRIED COUNTING SHEEP.
THE LEFTOVERS BECKONED --
THE DARK MEAT AND WHITE --
BUT I FOUGHT THE TEMPTATION
WITH ALL OF MY MIGHT.
TOSSING AND TURNING WITH ANTICIPATION,
THE THOUGHT OF A SNACK BECAME INFATUATION.
SO, I RACED TO THE KITCHEN, FLUNG OPEN THE DOOR,
AND GAZED AT THE FRIDGE, FULL OF GOODIES GALORE.
I GOBBLED UP TURKEY AND BUTTERED POTATOES,
PICKLES AND CARROTS, BEANS AND TOMATOES.
I FELT MYSELF SWELLING SO PLUMP AND SO ROUND,
'TIL, ALL OF A SUDDEN, I ROSE OFF THE GROUND.
I CRASHED THROUGH THE CEILING,
FLOATING INTO THE SKY
WITH A MOUTHFUL OF PUDDING AND A HANDFUL OF PIE.
BUT I MANAGED TO YELL AS I SOARED
PAST THE TREES:
HAPPY EATING TO ALL -- PASS THE
CRANBERRIES, PLEASE.
MAY YOUR STUFFING BE TASTY;
MAY YOUR TURKEY BE PLUMP;
MAY YOUR TATERS 'N GRAVY HAVE NARY A LUMP.
MAY YOUR YAMS BE DELICIOUS;
MAY YOUR PIES TAKE THE PRIZE;
MAY YOUR THANKSGIVING DINNER STAY OFF YOUR THIGHS.
MAY YOUR THANKSGIVING BE BLESSED!
