Sense and Nonsense In Poetry By Willis L. Tackette

Now that "Thanky Day" is over and we've eaten all the clover, and we've cleaned up all that's in the pot. We will have to start all over, and feed the bones to Rover and hunt around the place for what is not.

Now the turkey was not big, neither was the roasted pig. But the trimmings were piled up high and wide. Each one tried to eat the "mostest", just to please our gentle hostess.

But it was awful how I felt, trying to tighten up my belt for it seemed there was no room in my tummy. For I had crammed so much of turkey, pig and other such, that I realized that I should be more roomy.

But if I always had my way, I'd do the same another day, and maybe so the Doc I'd have to call; and he'd likely call me down and say I'd made myself a clown, and that I should eat no more until next spring.