Thanksgiving comes, but once a year;
Within every Turkey, it strikes fear.
Some hunt Tom, but most buy him frozen;
With gloved hand, the Giblets are stuffed in.
Some do TurDucken, Chicken, Turkey, Duck;
When first heard of, I said “What the Fuck!”.
All different ways to prepare, some deep fat fry;
Arteries clogging, they hasten their day to die.
We should all give thanks, on this holiday;
For our blessings, that we pray.
I shot my own Turkey once, it was such a great thrill;
Scared everyone in the frozen foods section, for they thought it was them I was there to kill.
Kicked out of the grocery store, didn’t even get my bird;
People still cussing me, with every dirty word.
Next time I think I’ll try hunting, on a Turkey Farm;
I don’t think, that would be any harm.
On this Thanksgiving, I’d like to wish you and yours;
A happy Turkey Day, just don’t try hunting in the stores.
Spider Michaels
