Thanksgiving Feast

©  2019 Mollie McKibbon

Mama’s in the kitchen

And dinner smells so good,

We’re sent to set the table

As all hungry children should.

We’ve folded all the napkins

And pulled up all our chairs.

Papa is so famished

He rumbles like the bears.

The potatoes have been mashed, 

And the carrots have been creamed,

The turkey bursts with stuffing, 

And the onions have been steamed.

As we sit around the table

With our relatives galore,

Papa says the shortest blessing

Than he’s ever said before.

Our eyes are on the kitchen,

With our napkins tucked to chins,

When Mama brings the platter

And Papa starts to grin.

The turkey smells delicious

As she wafts it by our nose,

And all of us together

Are curling up our toes.

There’s a leg for my big brother,

A wing for my dear sis,

And another leg for mother

While Papa takes some breast.

After all my aunts and uncles

Have each made their own pick,

There’s hardly any turkey left

For me to get a lick.

Because I am the youngest,

When the turkey has been cut,

I’m lucky if I end up with 

What’s on the turkey’s butt.