Thanksgiving 2025

Tina brought her gravy, thick as glue,

Jim’s already hittin' the brew,

Susan’s sweet potatoes are burnt to black,

And Cousin Jon’s stretchin' his elastic slacks.

Oh, it’s a turkey tussle at the table,

The mashed potatoes flyin’ like a fable,

Angel’s got stuffing stuck in her fur,

And Smokey’s screamin’ things I can’t refer.

Michael’s cranberry sauce took a dive,

Right into David’s pumpkin pie,

Trish’s yellin', “Pass the rolls, not the yams!”

While Rose is slingin’ peas with both her hands.

Smokey’s squawkin’, “You’re a fool, you’re a fool!”

And Cloewy’s got her own fork—breaking all the rules.

Oh, it’s a turkey tussle at the table,

Food fight chaos, we’re barely stable,

Smokey’s laughin’ like he’s in command,

And Sisco’s got drumsticks in both his hands.

Gravy on the ceiling, pie on the floor,

Uncle J R’s snoozin’, but he’s startin’ to snore,

Smokey’s shouting, “Clean it up, ya slob!”

And Grandma’s just happy she’s part of the mob.