Imagine a wide field full of large, orange pumpkins...

A large pumpkin, orange and round
Sat in a field on frosty ground
Wondering if he was dessert-pie bound
For Thanksgiving Day.

Pumpkin knew there was little he could do
His kind becoming pie, bread, or stew
Looking about he noted how very few
Remained for Thanksgiving Day.

He was the largest, there was no doubt
And very little need to sit and pout
As two large hands, strong and stout
Carried him away--for Thanksgiving Day.

The pumpkin felt his end was near
And faced that fact with a bit of fear
And then he happened to overhear--
"What a fine decoration!"

Decoration! That's what he was made
Upon the Pilgrims' table was where he stayed
There was no need to be afraid
For this Thanksgiving Day.