Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Run turkey, run!
The farmer's on his way;
Thanksgiving's 'round the corner,
And he ain't here to play!

You can crouch behind the sofa,
Or somewhere in the den;
The faintest little gobble,
Will surely do you in!

There's safety in the outhouse,
But that won't do no good;
The stench will kill you swiftly,
Quicker than a hatchet would!

Go slide beneath a tractor,
Or wiggle below some hay;
You're on the farmer's menu,
And he ain't got all day!

Dive into that mud pit,
Grunt like a dirty hog;
There ain't no sanctuary,
Inside a hollow log!

Try this on for size,
I'll tell you what to do;
Stand and face the farmer,
Then start to holler, "MOO!!"

He might say you're loco,
Your meat could make him sick;
It's the best that I can do,
I'd suggest you do it quick!

If this act fails you,
The dinner bell will ring;
I'll be at the table,
My favorite part's the wing!

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