Ode to a Turkey

Oh Mr. Turkey all juicy and fat
Cooking nicely in the roaster.
Surrounded by dressing that goes splat
Made from old bread toasted.

You had such a cute name, I recall
When wrapped in netted white.
We lovingly called you "Butterball"
Looking forward to a feasting delight.

Now you're a gorgeous brown
Smelling like heaven has descended
Folks are starting to gather round
To devour you as intended.

So on this day of giving thanks
I thank you Mr. Turkey
For being there for our hungry ranks
And not being made of tofurkey.