The day had arrived; ’twas exactly one year
since my relatives, (moochers), had Thanksgiving here,
poor Grandpa was already stewed to the gills,
and Grandma–disgusted, was popping pink pills.
The turkey was turning a rich, golden hue
while children were screeching, “There’s nothing to do!”
And memories from last year still had me spell-bound
when inside my stuffing Gran’s dentures were found!
Soon mean Uncle Henry called–fit to be tied,
offended that no one would give him a ride
to this festive occasion–he’s such an old crab,
so he cursed one and all, then he phoned for a cab.
His arrival came soon, not that anyone cared,
the adults began groaning, the children were scared,
then I noticed a change as I hugged him with dread–
he was sporting a rug on the top of his head!
A pie made of pumpkin shot into my view
being used to play catch; out the window it flew,
and I thought for a minute just who was to blame
as my prized candied yams disappeared down the drain.
My husband, the whiner, quick pulled me aside
and bribed me with cash for a place he could hide,
with my baster now loaded and aimed at his butt,
he crawled back to the couch, made a face, then shut-up.
A frog and a hamster decided to play
on the counter by Auntie, preparing souflee
with the aide of old Henry; they both stopped to stare,
then she screamed and he raced from the kitchen–sans hair!
When asked he replied, “Gee, I had it before–
but perhaps in my haste it fell off on the floor.”
So we all made a search, but the hunt was in vain,
now poor Henry had nothing to blanket his brain.
Recalling what Auntie had started to make,
I put the large crock in the oven to bake,
then called for the vultures in voice sugar-sweet,
“Let’s move it, you morons–we’re ready to eat!!”
The turkey was carved when the timer rang out,
Auntie’s dish didn’t raise so I started to doubt
that ingredients used in her famous souflee
would’ve called for an ugly, synthetic toupee.
And lo and behold, as I dug through the dish
all smothered in egg whites–a hairy, Oh Ish!!
These Thanksgiving dinners, My God! I declare…
if it ain’t someone’s dentures, it’s somebody’s hair!