A Thanksgiving Obeing.

A Thanksgiving Obeing.
489.1

“Come, hear the tale I would unfold,” said the Gobbler to his flock,
“For what the stars this day have told has given me a shock.

“The zodiac, in days of old, with twelve signs was com plete,
But woe is me, this day I see, thirteen are on the sheet!

“The last, a man with ax in hand, and blood within his eye,
Determination on his face, and teeth for turkey pic.

“I hied me to the Oracle to see what did portend,
And this is what he calmly said, ‘I see your bloom- ing end.’

“”This man will grab you by the feet, with ne’er a chance to peck,
And though the ax is in his hand, you’ll get it in the neck.

“‘Don’t think that to your memory he’ll offer up a toast;
But on the other hand, I see you’ll get a frightful roast.

“”And when you’re roasted to a turn, the tale is not half told;
For while he likes you served up hot, you are not bad sliced, cold.

“”You think your finish then you’ve seen-it were a view quite rash;
This ruthless man with heart of stone will chop you into hash.

“‘E’en then he will not stay his hand-he’ll make another swoop,
And at the end you’ll surely find you’ve landed in the soup.'”

The Gobbler paused and wiped his eye, and then he simply said:
“My friends, if all of this is true, there’s lively times ahead!”
-R. L. COURTNEY.