Thanksgiving poems

When Father Carves the Duck

We all look on with anxious eyes
when father carves the duck
and mother almost always sighs
when father carves the duck
Then all of us prepare to rise
and hold our bibs before our eyes
and be prepared for some surprise
when father carves the duck.
He braces up and grabs a fork
whene’er he carves a duck
And won’t allow a sould to talk
until he’s carved the duck.
The fork is jabbed into the sides
across the breast the knife he slides
while every careful person hides
from flying chips of duck.
The platters always sure to slip
when father cares a duck
and how it makes the dishes skip!
potatoes fly amuck!
The squash and cabbage leap in space
We get some gravy in our fact
And father mutters Hindu grace
Whene’er he carves a duck.
We then have learned to walk around
The dining room and luck
From off the windowsills and walls
Our share of father’s duck.
While father growls and blows and jaws
And swears the knife was full of flaws
and mother laughs at him becuase
he couldn’t carve a duck.

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