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.
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