Ode To A Turkey...

Tis the night before Thanksgiving and all through our houseNo turkey is baking; I feel like a louse,For I am all nestled, so snug in my bed;I’m not gettin’ up and I’m not bakin’ bread.
No pies in my oven, no cranberry sauceCuz I give the orders, and I am the boss.When out in the kitchen, there arose such a clatterI almost got up to see what was the matter.
As I drew in my head and was tossing aroundTo the bed came my husband, he grimaced, he frowned.And laying his finger aside of his nose,He scared me to death and I thought, “Here he goes!”
He spoke not a word as he threw back my quiltAnd the look that he gave was intended to wilt.So up to the ceiling my pillows he threwI knew I had had it, his face had turned blue.
“You prancer, you dodger, you’re lazy, you vixenOut yonder in kitchen, Thanksgiving you’re fixin.”But he heard me explain, with my face in a pout:"I'm just plain too tired and we're eating out!"