Spatchcock the turkey, nog down some eggs…or shall we do ham instead?
Thanksgiving seems no key, on its last legs…must we invite Uncle Fred?
Such planning seems pointless, I mean, who gives a damn?
Thanksgiving is so passé!
Take away football an’ what do you have?
Just a kickoff for Black Fri-day!!
I’m dreaming of an old Thanksgiving like we used to do at gran’ma’s house.
All the women in the kitchen, and the men folk bitchin’ ‘bout traffic on two-eighty-seven south.
I’m dreaming of the smells of November with all the cakes and pies and such;
And Aunt Faye’s fruit salad, so bland and pallid, even the dog wouldn’t eat that much.
I’m dreaming of a house full of cousins, the ones we saw maybe once a year.
They’d come up from Houston and out from Midland. The oldest, Frank, would sneak us beer.
I’m dreaming of an old Thanksgiving just like the ones when we were a bunch
‘Round that old card table on the porch with Aunt Mable who didn’t like nobody very much!
I’m dreaming of the folks who have left us; gran’ma, gran’pa and Mom an’ Dad.
Sure we had some hard times, some lean and sad times; but looking back, those days were not so bad.
I’m dreaming of good times together, be it a crowd or just a few.
May your day bring happiness and light and a happy old Thanksgiving Day to you!