It was Thanksgiving day, and Targen was perky,
For today was the day that he would eat lots of Turkey.
He ran out of his house to the great wishing well,
All of his animal friends were feeling swell.
The mayor, Tortimer, looked a little jerky,
Because on his table, there was no Turkey!
Targen asked why the table was bare,
And Tortimer sighed and said "The Turkey was a little too rare."
With that said,
Tortimer hung his hollow head.
Targen went out to find the big bird,
And bring it to justice, or his name wasn't Targen-The-Third.
It didn't take long, maybe a minute or three,
Targen found the frightened bird behind a big tree.
He whipped out his axe to end it's short life,
When the Turkey held out his wing and said "So YOUR the one you took my dear wife!"
Taken aback and slightly disturbed,
Targen lowered his axe and thought "Is this the right bird?"
The Turkey wore a black hat, like the pilgrims had worn,
And one of his feathers was slightly torn.
He spoke with such clarity, and grace,
Clearly this bird didn't deserve an axe in the face.
This bird was sentient, why hadn't he known?
And why were the other animals not eating their own?
Betty was a chicken, why did she still roam the earth?
And Patty was a cow, why hadn't she been eaten by one with much gerth?
This was making no sense, were the people of this land really such savages?
Whatever the answer, the Turkey was ravaged.
Targen struck the blow that took off it's head,
Not at all unhappy that the bird was dead.
Although something still ate at him for killing another sentient being,
But whatever it was, it wore off quickly, as he bit into some good Thanksgiving eating.