When I was a young turkey, new to the coop
My big brother Tom took me out to the stoop.
He sat me down, and spoke real slow.
He told me there was something that I had to know.
His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of …BLACK NOVEMBER.
“Come about August, now listen to me
Each day you’ll get six meals instead of just three.
And soon you’ll be thick, where once you were thin
You’ll grow a big rubbery thing on your chin.”
“Then one morning, when you’re warm in bed,
In will burst the farmer’s wife, and hack off your head!
She’ll pluck out your feathers so you’re bald and pink.
And scoop out your innards and leave ya’ lying in the sink.
And then comes the worse part,” he said, not bluffing.
“She’ll spread your cheeks and pack your rear with stuffing.”
Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat,
I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat.
I decided on the spot that to avoid being cooked.
I’d have to lay low and remain overlooked.
I began a new diet of nuts and granola,
High roughage salads, juice, diet cola,
As my pen-mates ate pastries, chocolates and crepes,
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes.
I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice when the bigger birds laughed.
But ‘twas I who was laughing, under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death.
And sure enough when Black November rolled around
I was the last turkey left in the entire compound…
So now I’m a pet in the farmer’s wife’s lap,
I haven’t a worry so I eat and I nap.
She held me today, while sewing and humming,
And smiled at me while singing “Christmas is coming!”
Crabbyrino Premium Member almost 14 years ago
When I was a young turkey, new to the coop My big brother Tom took me out to the stoop. He sat me down, and spoke real slow. He told me there was something that I had to know. His look and his tone I will always remember, When he told me of the horrors of …BLACK NOVEMBER. “Come about August, now listen to me Each day you’ll get six meals instead of just three. And soon you’ll be thick, where once you were thin You’ll grow a big rubbery thing on your chin.”
“Then one morning, when you’re warm in bed, In will burst the farmer’s wife, and hack off your head! She’ll pluck out your feathers so you’re bald and pink. And scoop out your innards and leave ya’ lying in the sink. And then comes the worse part,” he said, not bluffing. “She’ll spread your cheeks and pack your rear with stuffing.” Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat, I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat. I decided on the spot that to avoid being cooked. I’d have to lay low and remain overlooked.
I began a new diet of nuts and granola, High roughage salads, juice, diet cola, As my pen-mates ate pastries, chocolates and crepes, I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes. I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half, And tried not to notice when the bigger birds laughed. But ‘twas I who was laughing, under my breath, As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death. And sure enough when Black November rolled around I was the last turkey left in the entire compound… So now I’m a pet in the farmer’s wife’s lap, I haven’t a worry so I eat and I nap. She held me today, while sewing and humming, And smiled at me while singing “Christmas is coming!”