“THE SAD TAIL OF THOMAS.” a (Thanksgiving?) poem, for Thursday, Thanksgiving: November 28, in The Year of Our Lord Thomas 20 and 19
a.k.a.: “What To Do The Night Before You Die.”
“YOU ALL ARE SO PRETTY,” He said, at The COCKtail bar, forHeHAD “preprogrammed, male lust.”
The fellows all went: “Come on, man;” each woman adjusted her bust.
“I’m THANKFUL,” he said, “for being ‘filled’ with this special yearning for y’all,
LADIES;” HeWASaCowboy SmelledLikeManure nameO’TomOR”butterBall.”
The men scoffed; the women coughed and adjustedThemselvesAgain, thankful for a little REAL PASSION.
COWBOY TOM? was almost ready for dinner, AND HE WAS “all theRageNfashion.”
Tom WAS a turkey, and YOUknow the “hens” were ready,
To DATE, get married, ANYTHING (pause) even “go steady.
And TOM DID LAY on WEDNESDAY NIGHT,
But, the next day, TOM, Our Tom WAS COOKED.
Yet, Good Thomas, o’ course, he sends,
(Y’all) HOLIDAY GREETINGS.
“Eat me,” He would say,
But He’s DEAD NOW, Y’ALL;
YOU FeastERS ha’e taken His life away.
So, let’s remember TOM; He WAS aLITTLEbit saucy, BUT heSTILLsortaTasted good.
TOM. What a turkey. with
AndAlittleBit o’ chocolate “pud.”