'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 IN 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 FELT MYSELF SWELLING SO PLUMP AND SO ROUND,

'TILL 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 AND GRAVY HAVE NARY A LUMP.

MAY YOUR YAMS BE DELICIOUS, MAY YOUR PIES TAKE THE PRIZE,

MAY YOUR THANKSGIVING DINNER STAY OFF OF YOUR THIGHS.