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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