by Jesse Coghill
Poet farmer from Jordan



Ben Franklin thought the turkey
Should be our national bird.
It's in all the history books,
In case you haven't heard.

With glass of wine we sit and dine,
On November twenty-third;
When roasted, toasted, stuffed and broasted,
Then it's our favorite bird.

The macho hunter roams the woods
To bag this wily fowl;
With cunning way he slips away,
He's wiser than an owl.



Not shotgun blast nor arrow fast
Has thinned the noble flock.
His active mind has saved his kind
Since before Plymouth Rock.

So here's to you, you handsome beast,
Giving joy beyond all measure
And gracing our Thanksgiving feast,
A tried and true national treasure.