Thanksgiving

I've shared this poem before, I know. But, I love it. I've been listening to my 12-year-old practice committing it to memory all week. "Thanksgiving Feasts" has been recited at my family's Thanksgiving table for longer than I have been alive.

Oh, and meet Tom. He's for my mama.

Thanksgiving Feasts
author unknown

“Thanksgiving feasts,” O’Hara said,
“Thanksgivings like this here
Ain’t nothin’ to the one I et
In Wardleburg one year.
The Champeen eaters all were there,
Slack-stomached for the feast,
And we agreed the ones to pay
Were those who ate the least.
Ol’ Haskins, up Frog Holler way,
And Uncle Pelig Coon,
And Moses Hitt across the creek,
And Bill, and Doc M’Goon,
While several others I can’t name,
All trained and gaunted down,
Sat stroppin’ knives upon their boots,
While hundreds gathered ‘round
To see the champeen eatin’ race,
And when the judge yelled, ‘Go,’
We started in deliberate
Devourin’ vittles slow.
First came a chicken pie apiece
With mushrooms sprinkled in,
And then we had a quart of squash,
Six ‘taters, and a tin
Of pipin’ biscuits, buttered hot
With jam an’ apple jel,
And pickled beets and celery –
‘Twas here that Pelig fell.
While several others looked quite faint
Yet feebly carried on,
But when we reached the turkey course
The most of them were gone.
Each had an eight-pound turkey
Stuffed with nuts and sage and things,
I hadn't hardly et a half
‘Fore Bill and Haskins rings
Their curtains down and drags away
Upon their hands and knees.
That left just three, just Doc M’Goon
An’ me an’ Adam Peas.
The doctor started, but he then
Fell over in his chair.
But me and Adam, we ate ours
And split the doctor’s share.
But that fixed Adam, mournfully
He realized his fate,
His middle swelled so mightily
He couldn’t reach his plate.
I cleaned the board, and then I rose,
Disgusted with the bunch.
I wandered to the pantry
Where I fixed myself some lunch!”

Happy Thanksgiving!

edit: my sister Sarah declared his name to actually be Corky the Torkey.