The family’s all here and the turkey’s done,

we’re thankful to see each and everyone.

We all sit down and say our blessin’

then somebody shouts, "Pass the dressin’!"

Paw carves the turkey and I pass the taters,

this family eats like a swamp full of gators.

The food on the table begins to lessen

and someone hollers, "Bring more dressin’!"

Now there’s left over turkey, pies and cake,

and veggies galore, for heavens sake,

but as I look around, I am guessin’,

there won’t be a crumb of that good ole dressin’.

So, ‘fore turkey time rolls ‘round next year

I’ll have to make some changes, I fear.

Instead of last minute fussin’, fixin’, and messin’,

I better start in July to make enough dressin’.


By Lora Cox Ó 2001

This poem has been published by The International Poetry Society



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