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!
Copyright © Milton Toran | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment