A Thanksgiving Day Chuckle

Here's hoping that this classic poem by E.V. Wright helps put you into the proper frame of mind for your family get-together.

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;
    And 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 soul 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 platter's always sure to slip
    When father carves 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 face,
    And father mutters Hindu grace
    Whene'er he carves a duck.


    We then have learned to walk around
    The dining room and pluck
    From off the window-sills 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 because
    He couldn't carve a duck.
  
--Lee Klein



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