Cold Turkey
A roast turkey sat on the table,
He would have flown off,
If he was able.
The humans put a stop to that.
When they filled him with stuffing,
Then lathered his breast with fat.
He wished he was a chicken today,
After they plucked his feathers,
He'd run away.
But he wasn't chicken, not at all,
He was a turkey,
Proud and tall.
Turkeys have got used to strife,
They are hard to beat.
Until they see that sharp carving knife,
As those turkey breeders start to eat.
Gobble Gobble, without a thought
For that poor defenceless bird
Or of the anguish, their feast had brought,
Without a Turkey word.
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