'TWAS THE NIGHT OF THANKSGIVING, BUT I JUST COULDN'T SLEEP,
I TRIED COUNTING BACKWARDS, I TRIED COUNTING SHEEP.
THE LEFTOVERS BECKONED - THE DARK MEAT AND WHITE,
BUT I FOUGHT THE TEMPTATION WITH ALL OF MY MIGHT.
TOSSING AND TURNING IN ANTICIPATION,
THE THOUGHT OF A SNACK BECAME INFATUATION.
SO I RACED TO THE KITCHEN, FLUNG OPEN THE DOOR,
AND GAZED AT THE FRIDGE FULL OF GOODIES GALORE.
I FELT MYSELF SWELLING SO PLUMP AND SO ROUND,
'TILL ALL OF A SUDDEN I ROSE OFF THE GROUND.
I CRASHED THROUGH THE CEILING FLOATING INTO THE SKY,
WITH A MOUTHFUL OF PUDDING AND A HANDFUL OF PIE.
BUT I MANAGED TO YELL AS I SOARED PAST THE TREES,
HAPPY EATING TO ALL, PASS THE CRANBERRIES PLEASE.
MAY YOUR STUFFING BE TASTY, MAY YOUR TURKEY BE PLUMP,
MAY YOUR POTATOES AND GRAVY HAVE NARY A LUMP.
MAY YOUR YAMS BE DELICIOUS, MAY YOUR PIES TAKE THE PRIZE,
MAY YOUR THANKSGIVING DINNER STAY OFF OF YOUR THIGHS.
