Revenge

On Christmas night, when the snow lies white,

And the air is dark and murky,

You’d better watch out as there’s something about;

Beware the lurking turkey.

 

Beware the foul that’s out on the prowl,

Determined to even the score,

The bird who wants lunch with some thigh bones to crunch

And maybe an elbow or more,

The beast who would feast on ten humans at least,

With stuffing that’s made from their blood,

And fresh cranberry sauce, and gravy, of course,

With maybe a small roasted spud.

 

The turkey would gobble, its belly would wobble,

And then it would burp in delight.

It would drink some fine booze, watch telly then snooze,

And say ‘Well, it serves them all right’.