The "Last" Thanksgiving

T’was the morn’ of Thanksgiving,
And all through the land,
The chickens were happy,
The turkeys in the pan.

The wigwams were warm,
The children were snug,
The blankets infected,
With the White Mans flu bug.

There arose on the Great Plains,
Such a deafen clatter,
They sprang from their Tee Pee’s,
To see what’s the matter.

They rode on great horses,
All gleaming of steel,
“We are the Pilgrims”,
“And we've got a deal”.

“We are the Natives”,
“And we’ll take your deal”,
“But first won’t you join us”,
“We’ll make you a meal”.

They sat and they ate,
The Medicine Man stood by,
He had such a smile,
A gleam in his eye.

The magic would work,
He had done it before,
The Pilgrims would be turkeys,
Just gobblers on the floor.

The Pilgrims did eat,
They cussed and they laughed,
The turkey was poisoned,
It gave them much gas.

The Pilgrims felt funny,
They couldn't be sure,
They had not seen magic,
No, not nowhere before.

The feathers did grow,
The wings they did sprout,
The Pilgrims were now turkeys,
That’s what Thanksgiving’s about.

There's always one sicko in the bunch. I have no problem volunteering .