11.27.2008

Happy Thanksgiving!

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 POTATOES 'N GRAVY HAVE NARY A LUMP,

MAY YOUR YAMS BE DELICIOUS MAY YOUR PIES TAKE THE PRIZE,

MAY YOUR THANKSGIVING DINNER STAY OFF OF YOUR THIGHS.

~unknown

1 comment:

Tina said...

Love the poem! I laughed at your story about the giblet bag. Many young chefs have made the same mistake, myself included. It's more a rite of passage than a mistake.