Ode To A Turkey

His look and his tone
I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of.....
Black November;

"Come about August, now listen to me,
Each day you'll get six meals
instead of just three,
"And soon you'll be thick,
where once you were thin,
And you'll grow a big rubbery thing
under your chin;

"And then one morning,
when you're warm in your bed,
In'll burst the farmer's wife,
and hack off your head;
"Then she'll pluck out all your feathers
so you're bald 'n pink,
And scoop out all your insides
and leave ya lyin' in the sink;

Well, the rest of his words
were too grim to repeat,
I sat on the stoop
like a winged piece of meat,
And decided on the spot
that to avoid being cooked,
I'd have to lay low and
remain overlooked;

I began a new diet of
nuts and granola,
High-roughage salads,
juice and diet cola;
And as they ate pastries, chocolates and grapes,
I stayed in my room
doing Jane Fonda tapes;
I maintained my weight
of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice
when the bigger birds laughed;

But 'twas I who was laughing,
under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed,
ever closer to death;
And sure enough when
Black November rolled around,
I was the last turkey left
in the entire compound;