'Twas the night before Thanksgiving,
And all through the farm
Not a turkey was living;
Every single one was gone.
The axe-head lay bloody,
Its blade in the stump,
And lying nearby:
A disgusting red lump.
The turkeys, all butchered
And hanging on hooks,
Were starting to smell bad,
And they weren't much for looks.
I and my wife
Were laying in bed
With specks of fresh turkey-blood
Still on our heads.
Then from down the hallway
There came a gruesome noise;
Someone had chopped the head off of
One of our boys!
I flew to the window
and opened the sash,
Where I jumped to the lawn
And took off in a dash.
Then I tripped on a log
And my fingers got mashed,
And someone ripped off my head
With the spine still attached!
He swung my head around
Like a ball on a rope;
And I was still living!
-And knew I had no hope.
And the last thing I heard
As I exited life
Was, "Now we'll carve up his insides
With an electric steak knife!?"
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