…When all through the house,
Not a turkey was roasting, not a butt on the couch.
No one had made beds, or vacumed the floors,
Or cleaned out the bunnies that clung to the doors.
The yard was in ruin from gold leaves with red,
Just after the rake was replaced in the shed.
The stuffing lay stuffed in its package with care,
In hopes that St. Freezerburn’s touch wouldn’t dare,
Defile the foul that would be the Turducken.
Without it, Thanksgiving itself would be nothin’.
The three beasts that make up this wild concoction,
Was planned by a man with no feast time direction.
The Honey baked ham sat chilling with care,
Near three pumpkin pies, Yams, and something with hair.
The holiday place settings remained in their box,
And the silver wear’s silver was stained with old spots.
Tomorow’s the day friends and family will call,
Expecting a dinner to rival them all.
Diets and weight plans will sluff to the side,
As soon as the guests get a whiff of the pie.
The game will be blareing on the old T.V set,
And the kids will be playing soccer with no net.
Grandpa will snore at the 1st and down,
Forcing uncle to turn up the halftime sound.
The dishes will pile up high in the sink,
And the women will gab while the men sit and drink.
Eventually all will go on their way,
Except for your brother, who’s got no’else to stay.
Thanksgiving will promise a chaotic time,
But tonight, my dear family, this sofa is MINE!
______HAPPY THANKGIVING!_______
Ferinlayth 