'Twas the day of Thanksgiving, when all through the house
Every creature was stirring, everyone was about;
The turkey was placed in the oven with care,
In hopes that our forks soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug on the couch,
While visions of parades danced before their eyes;
And Mamma in her apron, and I in my PJ's,
Had just settled down for a long football game,
When out the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sofa to see what was the matter.
Away to the room I flew like a flash,
Tore open the door and saw it at last.
The candle light on the breast of the new-cooked turkey
Gave the lustre of hunger to children below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature dinner, and eight tiny rolls,
With a little old recipe, so lovely and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be just a trick.
More rapid than eagles these children they came,
And mom whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Nephi! now, Samuel! now, John and Paul!
Come on, Jacob! Come on Enos! Come on, Mosiah and Omni!
To the front! to the front of the table!
Now wash away! wash away! wash your hands away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, make it to the table,
So up to the chairs the children they flew,
With the bellies full of empty, and Mamma too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the oven
The warming and cooking of the little turkey.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the kitchen Mamma came with a bound.
She was dressed all in gingham, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all messy with stuffing and food;
A bundle of entrees she had flung on the table,
And she looked just like a chef with a show on the cable.
Her salads -- how they twinkled! her stuffing how merry!
Her cranberries were like roses, her pie like a cherry!
The children's little mouths were filled up like a tow,
And yet the fronts of their shirts were as white as snow;
The dirty dishes Mamma then held tight in her hands,
And the good dishes filled the dishwasher instead;
We had smiling faces and little round bellies,
That shook, when we laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
We were chubby and plump, like right jolly young squirrels,
And I laughed when I saw them, in spite of myself;
A wink of Mamma's eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know that we were not done yet;
She spoke not a word, but went straight to counter,
And picked up the pie; then turned with a smile,
And laying her finger aside of the knife,
And giving a nod, cut the pie into each slice;
They sprang to her side, to their siblings gave a whistle,
And together they all flew to the sight of dessert.
But I heard them exclaim, as they dove into the pie,
"Merry Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good bite!"
Every creature was stirring, everyone was about;
The turkey was placed in the oven with care,
In hopes that our forks soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug on the couch,
While visions of parades danced before their eyes;
And Mamma in her apron, and I in my PJ's,
Had just settled down for a long football game,
When out the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sofa to see what was the matter.
Away to the room I flew like a flash,
Tore open the door and saw it at last.
The candle light on the breast of the new-cooked turkey
Gave the lustre of hunger to children below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature dinner, and eight tiny rolls,
With a little old recipe, so lovely and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be just a trick.
More rapid than eagles these children they came,
And mom whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Nephi! now, Samuel! now, John and Paul!
Come on, Jacob! Come on Enos! Come on, Mosiah and Omni!
To the front! to the front of the table!
Now wash away! wash away! wash your hands away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, make it to the table,
So up to the chairs the children they flew,
With the bellies full of empty, and Mamma too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the oven
The warming and cooking of the little turkey.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the kitchen Mamma came with a bound.
She was dressed all in gingham, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all messy with stuffing and food;
A bundle of entrees she had flung on the table,
And she looked just like a chef with a show on the cable.
Her salads -- how they twinkled! her stuffing how merry!
Her cranberries were like roses, her pie like a cherry!
The children's little mouths were filled up like a tow,
And yet the fronts of their shirts were as white as snow;
The dirty dishes Mamma then held tight in her hands,
And the good dishes filled the dishwasher instead;
We had smiling faces and little round bellies,
That shook, when we laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
We were chubby and plump, like right jolly young squirrels,
And I laughed when I saw them, in spite of myself;
A wink of Mamma's eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know that we were not done yet;
She spoke not a word, but went straight to counter,
And picked up the pie; then turned with a smile,
And laying her finger aside of the knife,
And giving a nod, cut the pie into each slice;
They sprang to her side, to their siblings gave a whistle,
And together they all flew to the sight of dessert.
But I heard them exclaim, as they dove into the pie,
"Merry Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good bite!"
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