Thanksgiving comes on Thursday

by the president's decree.

But Friday, good old Friday

is Thanksgiving Day for me.

There's lots to eat on Thursday,

just heaps and piles of stuff,

but mother always worries

for fear there's not enough.

So many folks for dinner,

she's sure that some will starve

and whispers to my father,

"Be careful how you carve."

And as for me, she warns me,

I've heard it all before,

"No matter what we pass,

you don't ask for any more."

But Friday, one day after,

she doesn't feel that way.

I've heard it all so often,

I know she's going to say,

"Whoever would have guessed it,

to see those people eat,

that on this turkeys carcass

there'd be left a shred of meat?

I thought before they finished

we should have to cook it's mate,

but there's quite a lot left over.

Come, Willie, pass your plate."

Thanksgiving may be Thursday

by the president's decree,

but Friday, oh boy,Friday,

is Thanksgiving Day for me.

And it isn't only turkey

for there's nuts and fruit and pie,

and no one counting noses

with a watchful worried eye.

There's joy in every closet,

a surprise on every shelf,

and only gentle warnings

if I go and help myself.

There's candy in a box upstairs,

and in the shed a jug,

with just enough of apple juice

to make it go ker-chung!

Thanksgiving may be Thursday,

if you're eating as a guest,

but I give thanks for Friday,

for home folks, that's the best.

Author Unknown

Into the mellow days of autumn

Pass the gleaming summer days;

Fields and orchards shine with bounty,--

Do grateful hearts a tribute raise?

Blessings crown the paths of autumn,

Full are bins with golden grain;

Come, your gratitude now voicing,

Lift to God a praising strain.

As the Pilgrims in their harvest

Raised their thanks to God above,

So we lift a song of gladness

For the blessings of His love;

Rain and sunshine blessed each valley,

Wood and mountain hill and plain;

For the blessings from the Father

Lo, we lift our thanks again!

Peace within our pleasant borders,

Signs of justice in our land;

Yea, we lift a glad thanksgiving

For the gifts from God's own hand.

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