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Turkey Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Funny Bird by Anonymous
  2. A Turkey Speaks by Anonymous
  3. Turkey Warning by Anonymous
  4. Did You Ever See A Turkey by Anonymous
  5. At Grandma's House by Anonymous
  6. The Wild Turkey by Isaac McLellan

  1. Funny Bird

    by Anonymous

    A turkey is a funny bird,
    Its head goes wobble, wobble,
    All it knows is just one word,
    "Gobble, gobble, gobble."

  2. A Turkey Speaks

    by Anonymous

    I have never understood
    why anyone would
    roast the turkey
    and shuck the clams
    and crisp the croutons
    and shell the peas
    and candy the sweets
    and compote the cranberries
    and bake the pies
    and clear the table
    and wash the dishes
    and fall into bed
    when they could sit back
    and enjoy a hamburger.

  3. Turkey Warning

    by Anonymous

    Tell me, Mr. Turkey,
    Don't you feel afraid
    When you hear us talking
    'Bout the plans we've made?

    Can't you hear us telling
    How we're going to eat
    Cranberries and stuffing
    With our turkey meat?

    Turkey, heed my warning:
    Better fly away;
    Or you will be sorry
    On Thanksgiving day.

  4. Turkey Warning

    by Anonymous

    Did you ever see a turkey a turkey a turkey
    Did you ever see a turkey go this way and that
    Go this way and that way and this way and that way
    Did you ever see a turkey go this way and that?

  5. At Grandma's House

    by Anonymous

    I like the taste of turkey
    Any time throughout the year.
    But it never seems to taste as good
    As when Thanksgiving's here.

    Could be it's all the trimmings
    That are cooked with it to eat,
    But I think it's eating at Grandma's house
    That makes it such a treat!

  6. The Wild Turkey

    by Isaac McLellan

    These noble birds that did abound
    Innumerous over Northern ground―
    Victims so oft to northern sport―
    Now seek in southern realms resort;
    In Mexico, in Texas State,
    Their numbers are supremely great.
    Where strutting, gobbling flocks are seen,
    Most frequent in the forests green,
    And there oft thunder-like are heard,
    The flappings of the turkey bird.

    Seek them where gloomy shadows fall
    Beneath the woodland dim and tall;
    In the dense alder-brakes, or where
    The dark pines lift their spears in air,
    Where slow or winding rivulet creeps,
    Or swift thro' bushy ravine sweeps.
    Hid in tall grass that spreads around,
    Your call deceptive, faintly sound,
    And soon you hear each answering note,
    From the embowering thickets float;
    Soon will perceive the cautious game
    Step forth―then steady be your aim.

    A hunter, ere the dawning day,
    Flushes with blaze the forest's way,
    Selects his ambush near a wood,
    Where roosting, rest the noble brood.
    'Tis lovely morn of early spring,
    That gilds the earth with blossoming;
    The violets and daisies white,
    Enamel earth with colorings bright,
    The red-buds with their pinkish spray,
    Entwine the trees with garlands gay;
    The humid air holds odors still,
    Of wild-plum blooms o'er plain and hill,
    While snowy dogwood blossoms cling
    To branch, the bridal-wreaths of Spring.
    Then all the wood-bowers teem with life,
    With wild-wood melodies, are rife,
    Then sudden from a dense tree top,
    On dashing wing the turkeys drop,
    Skim in wide circles down the air,
    Then sink to earth the feast to share,
    While qu1ck the fowler's shot is heard
    And bleeding, struggling dies the bird.