Thanksgiving comes on Thursday
by the president's decree.
But Friday, good old Friday
is Thanksgiving Day for me.
There's lots to eat on Thursday,
just heaps and piles of stuff,
but mother always worries
for fear there's not enough.
So many folks for dinner,
she's sure that some will starve
and whispers to my father,
"Be careful how you carve."
And as for me, she warns me,
I've heard it all before,
"No matter what we pass,
you don't ask for any more."
But Friday, one day after,
she doesn't feel that way.
I've heard it all so often,
I know she's going to say,
"Whoever would have guessed it,
to see those people eat,
that on this turkeys carcass
there'd be left a shred of meat?
I thought before they finished
we should have to cook it's mate,
but there's quite a lot left over.
Come, Willie, pass your plate."
Thanksgiving may be Thursday
by the president's decree,
but Friday, oh boy,Friday,
is Thanksgiving Day for me.
And it isn't only turkey
for there's nuts and fruit and pie,
and no one counting noses
with a watchful worried eye.
There's joy in every closet,
a surprise on every shelf,
and only gentle warnings
if I go and help myself.
There's candy in a box upstairs,
and in the shed a jug,
with just enough of apple juice
to make it go ker-chung!
Thanksgiving may be Thursday,
if you're eating as a guest,
but I give thanks for Friday,
for home folks, that's the best.
Author Unknown
Mommy Candy
1 888 430-2010
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