Wednesday morning, RT frantic:
Paper and the mag gigantic
When appeared a turkey, mantic,
Standing in the sunlight’s glare:
Tiny Tom, with tail aflare.
He said he hoped we all were bluffin’
About what we said was “turkey stuffin’”
And joined us for coffee and muffin
To discuss, he said, the holidays –
“Fountain Square – what’s up that- a-ways?”
Thinking he was somewhat leery,
I said, “Nothing else is quite so cheery
As shining light in twilight dreary
Like what occurs in Fountain Square.
And you-know-who will show up there.”
“Faith,” we added, “and begorrah!
Sunday next we light the menorah
In clear weather – kenahora!”
This too’s at Fountain Square.
Our Tiny Tom cheered up a hair.
Seeing he was getting nervous,
Even angry, almost furious
“Next week is a Thanksgiving service,”
We assured him, hoping to give comfort there –
“It’s at a church, not Fountain Square.”
But Tiny Tom was hardly tempted,
His day at the Square preempted
His ire, we felt, could be exempted
For if the day’s far from the Square
It hardly seems too festive there.
But all’s not lost, to him we spake –
Next Thursday, right down at the Lake,
The Flying Turkey Race will take
Place – and you, Tom Turkey, can be there –
Not too far from Fountain Square.
Tiny Tom sensed us fawning,
Then over him the light came dawning
And a terror came a-spawning.
He’d be at the feast all right –
To be the feast would be his plight.
“Why,” he gobbled, “do you eat carrion?
Why is no one vegetarian?
Are you nought but Libertarians?
To eat a turkey on his day
Is enough to make an atheist pray.”
‘Tis true, after this discussion,
We felt the awful repercussion,
Who could give Tom a concussion?
Perhaps we’ll just eat yams, we muttered,
With brown sugar, nicely buttered.
We’ll see you all at Fountain Square!