The email has been pretty swift today from the release last night of our Thanksgiving episode of the Merry Little Podcast. What most want, for whatever reason, is the little poem we found from a newspaper of 1750. It's called "Ode to Turkeys" and here it is:
Turkeys who have nobly bled,
Turkeys who on corn have fed,
Welcome to us, now you’re dead,
And in the frost have hung.
Now’s the day, and now’s the hour,
Thro the market how we scour,
Seeking Turkeys to devour,
Turkeys old and young.
Who would be a turkey hen,
Fed and fattened in a pen,
Kill’d and eaten by hungry men --
Can you tell, I pray
Lay the proud old turkeys low,
Let the young ones run and grow,
To market they’re not fit to go,
Till next Thanksgiving Day.
Turkeys who have nobly bled,
Turkeys who on corn have fed,
Welcome to us, now you’re dead,
And in the frost have hung.
Now’s the day, and now’s the hour,
Thro the market how we scour,
Seeking Turkeys to devour,
Turkeys old and young.
Who would be a turkey hen,
Fed and fattened in a pen,
Kill’d and eaten by hungry men --
Can you tell, I pray
Lay the proud old turkeys low,
Let the young ones run and grow,
To market they’re not fit to go,
Till next Thanksgiving Day.
