Dining Out at a Restaurant for Thanksgiving

(or - One Turkey's Pathetic Plea)

by R.J. Clarken

OH, I am called Tom the Turkey.
I might taste a wee bit quirky,
since our Chef was found ''drunk-perky''
when he switched giblets for jerky,

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

among some other things that were
stuffed inside me in error,
like toe nails, and one might concur
chopped bug parts -- no doubt -- cause a stir.

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

It is truly not intended
for our guests to be offended.
Most will think it's not quite splendid.
Also, it's not recommended.

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

Lots of folks want to dispense with
messy jobs of cooking, hencewith.
Just to dine with kin or some kith --
no more gobbling more Eskalith.

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

The truth of this position is
catering's a real strange biz.
Like, if your Chef takes a quick whiz,
one hopes (Oh God!) he washes his

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

hands, and especially if he
plays (even a slight degree)
with his own ''giblets and jerky''
then goes to stuff a roast turkey.

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

I wish our diners no big grief
(but very strong peptic relief)
as each one chews jerky of beef
in sad increasing disbelief.

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

For the next year's celebration,
I propose for toast libation
and your turkey drumstick ration --
please resist that old temptation . . .

Gobble gobble -- arrrgggh!

... and just dine at home.

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