(I’m Dreaming of) An Old Thanksgiving

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!