With Apologies to C. Clement Moore

From a friend:

 

’Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn’t sleep
     I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep.
     The leftovers beckoned—the dark meat and white
     But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

I tossing and turning with anticipation
    The thought of a snack became infatuation.
    So, I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door
   And gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.

I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
   Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.
   I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
   ’Til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky
   With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.
   But, I managed to yell as I soared past the trees …
   Happy eating to all—Pass the cranberries, please.

May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump.
    May your potatoes ‘n gravy have nary a lump.
    May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize,
    May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs.

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