Every day there’s a large flock of turkeys that strut
Down our driveway, conversing in gobbles and clucks.
On Thanksgiving Day we eat everything but
Such amiable birds. It would bring us bad luck
To devour our neighbors, who mean us no harm
And are handsome, to boot, with a certain odd charm
To their tip-toeing gait that is almost like dancing.
That such grand birds can fly, we find truly entrancing,
So we dined on ham slices, potatoes and pie…
But of course, for our dinner a pig had to die!
