Twas the morning of Thanksgiving, and all through the house,
Susan was scurrying just like a little mouse;
There were meatballs to be made and cheeses to be sliced,
And apples for the pies that had to be diced.
Jeff was outside lighting the burners,
“It’s not hot enough,” he cried in dismay
And he opened the regulator valves all the way!
And as the liquid in the kettles began to sizzle and hiss,
Its vapors rose towards the sky like a mist.
I looked outside when I heard all the clatter,
“Where are the neighbors, their laughter, and their turkeys for that matter?”
And then Dan came as he spoke not a word,
He just lit his cigar and began helping with the birds.
First the Watsons, and then the Johnsons, and the Nickersons came,
Bringing their thanksgiving dinner to be cooked in the hot oil,
One can not imagine a scene of such turmoil!
But as the birds re-emerged a golden brown from the kettle,
Visions of Thanksgiving dinners from the past
Began forming in our heads at last!
And the neighbors kept coming all day long,
Anticipating their Thanksgiving dinners with a smile and a song.
And so it went to the end of the day
When the Brooks family sat down to pray;
“Thank you Lord for this wonderful day, for family and friends,
And for neighbors both little and tall,
We truly are blessed by them all!”