Turkey Scoot
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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