by Chris Mangham (written December 2005) Not a good time of year is Advent For us turkeys throughout the UK We're worried we might just get chosen For service on (gulp) Christmas Day We're trying to keep a low profile Acting like thin an' ill-fed It's better that way than being picked from the fray To be roasted at Christmas instead. My friend, he's talked of escaping Though I must say he's easily led I've told him to give up his bird-brained idea And go on a diet instead I dare say he'd pluck up the courage, But really it's just barefaced cheek And wi' 'is size there's a limit on how much he'll lose Goin' joggin' just three times a week And all of this ducking and diving Quite ruins our fowl social life I can't even get to a barn dance And end up cooped up wi' the wife. They say us male turkeys are hen-pecked Outnumbered by female birds Maybe, but they don't half talk gobbledegook I wish that they'd use fewer words. You're thinking we turkeys look spoiled You're wondering how much do we earn Well the income we get is just paltry While t' farmer has money to burn To us it really is chicken feed Mind, not that we really could spend Except perhaps pick up a couple of flights To Turkey, for me and a friend. I went last year and t'weather were roastin' I went wi' mi' girlfriend, Therese We both plumped for Turkey from t' brochure We didn't feel quite right about Greece While t' weather here's decidedly cooler I've bought me a tight thermal vest Happen it'll also stop farmer Stuffing giblets up into me chest One young turkey, for a joke like Shouted 'Paxo' and made us all jump We all ran round like 'eadless chickens Especially them as was plump Another of his favourites was 'sausage meat' The cheeky young turkey looked chuffed Till one of one of the wiser, old turkeys Told 'im to go and get stuffed This larking, it can give us nightmares It's not something that I'd endorse And one night I dreamed that I'd fell off me perch Into t'vat full of cranberry sauce Of all that might haunt me this Advent There is nothing worse that I fear Than bein' on a platter, surrounded by sprouts, Wi' onion and sage up me rear It's forgotten we turkeys have feelings And sometimes I just have a hunch That I might be bein' weighed up by t' farmer As potential for somebody's lunch Once Christmas has passed, though we might sleep at night A period of cold turkey ensues And if we're not picked as New Years Day birds That really does come as Good News It surely is time to talk turkey Language is fowl; this is true But it's time to raise human awareness Of the plight that we turkeys go through It's a pity you humans are partial To white meat from on t' butcher's stall If you fancied a leg, we could donate one each But breast meat demands our all Spare a thought for our nervous existence When talking within our earshot When we hear bacon rolls, or parsley or thyme We've visions we're heading for t' pot. My friend Tom turkey's philosophic When contemplating his fate Says he'd rather be t'centre o' Christmas Than twizzlers on a school dinner plate That's as maybe, but sort of defeatist We turkeys should argue our rights And campaign against exploitation And pluck up the courage to fight As a start, we've set up Turkeys United Of developments we'll keep you abreast It's a sort of poultry self help group For us turkeys, who can get depressed Are you now feeling sorry for turkeys? Are you wondering if there's owt you can do To help with the plight of us seasonal fowl? Well, try goose; it's much easier to chew. When Christmas is over and New Year has passed And you've supped all your fresh turkey soup For all of us birds, who've been saved by being slim We'll party all night in the coop. So next time your cruising round Asda Or Tesco, or t'place where you shop Resist the temptation to pick up that bird Save one of me mates from the chop. Yes, stand by us turkeys this season You humans, lets all raise a toast Yes, stand by us turkeys this Christmas And purchase a hazelnut roast.
The end