Twas the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and all through Kitchen
No poultry could be found
Not even cold chicken
The chili was made in the Crockpot with purpose
Postponing the smell of hot turkey carcass
The Thanksgiving fixins' were hidden in shelves
Waiting for Thursday to reintroduce themselves
I was in my apron that donned such a look
A picture of red lips that said 'Kiss the Cook'
When out from the living room arose such a clatter
The rest of the family began to chatter
A way to their gossip, I hurried with splendor
To talk them out of eating a rogue chicken tender
When what to my eyes should appear
A whole bucket of KFC and ice cold beer
With a look so callous and cool
I knew in an instant no one liked my rule
More rapid than eagles my curses they came,
And I hollered, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Daughter! now, Son! now, Husband and Pets!
No nuggets! No Strips! No Hot Wing Sweats
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
No poultry till Thursday! No poultry at all!"
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