Turkey roostin’ in the tree
Jest ez high ez he kin be;
Been up there a week or more,
Feelin’ discontent an’ sore,
Feelin’ shaky ‘cuz he knows
Ol’ Thanksgiving’s pretty close.
“Gobble, gobble!” loud says he,
“You can’t git me, no sir-ee!”
Farmer goes an’ gits his gun,
Thinks he’ll hev a little fun;
Turkey hollers, “hi, don’t shoot,
I’ll come down, you big galoot!”
Turkey comes down with a grin,
Pale an’ weak an’ worn an’ thin;
Farmer says, disgusted ‘bout:
“You ain’t fit to eat, git out!”
Nov.
19, ‘09
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