Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn't sleep; I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep. The leftovers beckoned - the dark meat and white - but I fought the temptation with all of my might.
Tossing and turning with anticipation, the thought of a snack became infatuation. So, I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door, and gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.
I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.
I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
'til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.
I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky
with a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.
But, I managed to yell as I soared past the trees....
“Happy eating to all -- pass the cranberries, please.”
May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump, may your potatoes 'n gravy have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize, and may your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs.
