The Turkey’s Conundrum.

New Zealand Graphic, 28 December 1907, Page 41

The Turkey’s Conundrum.

I wonder why the farmer man Has grown so good to me? He picked his finest garden patch And in it turned ma free — A little field that snuggles close Beside the old gray barn. So bulging full the larder leaks, And grains of wheat and corn.

It used to be, at feeding time, I’d have to dodge around, And make a supper of the oats That spilled upon the ground; But now the farmer gorges me Three times a day with mash. And guards me while I gobble down His turkey succotash.

And mindful of my adipose, To' help me with a boost. He leaned a |add,er up the tree Wnere I nni Wdnt t*v roost; And if his dog but barks at night, Or startled guineas cry, He tumbles out of bed to see If J am safe and high.

To-day I heat'd the farmer brag About me to bis wife. The while he whetted on a stone His old brown carving-knife. He said no gobbler ever grew So big and pTump and fat As I had grown — I wonder why The farmer mentioned that? j

He picked his broadaxe up, and ran Ills thumb along the sffeel, And oiled his old grindstone, and worked The' pedal with his heel; And all the while he hummed a tune O: stuffing, pumpkin-pie, Of white meat and cranberry sauce, And squash — 1 wonder why?

And while he sang I strutted near Enough, to hear and see The farmer and his wife were full Of interest in me. And so 1 nang my wattle low, And plume and strut around, And pprple in the face, 1 lock My wings upon the ground.

How proud I am that all the fuss And talk about the place Is all for me, my bulging breast And plumes and purple face! I wonder what this sudden gale Of rosy luck can be That gives the farmer and his wife Such interest in me?