Twas the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse

Empty beer cans were lying with me in my chair

It wouldn’t be long till Saint Turkey was there

The dogs went to bed a few minutes before

So they and the wife would not hear me snore

And mamma in her jammies and I in my jeans

Were each drifting off to our own dreamy scenes

When out on the deck there arose such a clatter

I forced open an eye to see what was the matter

As I stepped to the window I slipped on a can

Then I fell on my butt and I swore like a man

The moon on the deck splitting shadows of night

Gave the illusion of snow making everything white

When suddenly what did my wondering eyes see

But a flying crate of stuffing and a big fat turkey

Looking weary and cranky his face held a smirk

I knew in a moment it must be St Turk

His helpers were ragged all looking the same

And he whistled and shouted and cursed them by name

Now Butterball! now, Tyson!, now, Zackey and Hormel!

On Jennie! On Brook Farm! On Safeway and Cargill!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now move your ass! Move your ass! Move your ass all!

As the dry leaves that I failed to rake swirl as they fly

Reaching the roof with fat asses took more than one try

Finally up to the rooftop the turkeys they flew

Hoisting baskets of butterballs for me and for you

And then in a twinkling I heard the crate pause

Then the scraping and scratching of cold turkey claws

As I drew in my head and was turning around

Down the chimney St Turkey came with a bound

With the fireplace burning the key part of my plot

St Turkey had landed right straight in my pot

The aroma of roast turkey soon filled the air

My holiday main course I was able to snare

I returned to the window to let his eight helpers know

They were now on their own and they really should go

The eight were all smiles when they learned of his plight

I heard them exclaim, “We’re drinkin’ Wild Turkey tonight!”

Then into their crate they managed to climb

And flew off into the night dismissing the crime

A million more deliveries that could not be late

With the knowledge they avoided old St Turkey’s fate

Copyright 2011 Patrick Granfors