Thanksgiving and the Turkey Who Survived
A turkey in the States just thought:
"Oh my, it is that time again",
he packed his suitcase and some stuff,
told his Mom "I'll be back, but don't know when"
He took the bus to catch a plane,
but at the desk he didn't know
to where he'd go, to be real safe
from having to perform a dinner show.
He closed his eyes and picked a place
and saw he'd picked the country France,
across the ocean far away,
he thought "This could be my only chance"
Landed smoothly like a swan,
got through customs rather quick,
breathed in the air of Southern France,
Oh dear, this land just gave him a kick.
He lodged into a little farmhouse
and people there seemed ever so nice,
but then the geese told him a tale
and Oh by Josh, these weren't lies.
The geese got stuffed each day anew,
with grain to let their liver grow.
"Please run, don't stay", they pushed him out,
"This is no place for you, just go".
Thus in the middle of the night,
off he went, suitcase and stuff.
He took a train that went up North,
through beautiful landscapes rough.
He crossed the border of Belgium land
and went to the information desk,
"Can I, as turkey, live here safe?"
They laughed and said "Don't be grotesque".
"All Belgium people like to dine,
they'll eat you stuffed with something mashed.
Take our advice and don't stay here,
if you don't want your belly slashed".
He ran to the street, his face real pale,
"They're all the same like home", he thought.
"Where should I go, to live a safe life",
and again a bus ticket he bought.
And so he came to where I live,
I found him standing in the rain.
His feathers rumpled, soaking wet,
in whispering voice he tried to explain.
I took him in my arms and said:
"Come here sweet fellow, dry your tears,
you've found your safe place, guaranteed"
and he's been living here for years.
We all live happily ever after,
at my Dutch sweet little farm,
where the voices of all the lifestock
perfectly mix with the goble, goble charm.
© 2013 Titia Geertman