Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, gobble-gobble-gobble

A somewhat common subgenre of Christmas ghost stories that didn't make it into the Valancourt Book of Victorian Christmas Ghost Stories, Volume Four involved people being haunted—literally or in nightmares—by the food in which they'd overindulged. That theme also figured in some Christmas poems, jokes, etc.; readers will find in the book a shorter interpolated item that makes use of it. Closely related were stories that featured ghosts of animals, particularly turkeys, but without referencing overburdened stomachs. Both types, unsurprisingly given the foodcentricity of the holiday, also manifested in Thanksgiving variations.

A shape poem for Thanksgiving from 1889 by H. C. Dodge featured a sort of wraith of a turkey, a turkey appearing before the reader prior to the turkey's imminent demise. (A Christmas shape poem by H. C. Dodge is in the book.)



A Christmas ghost song of this general type, written by Fred Gibson and Frank Wood and recorded by at least a couple UK artists in the 1930s was:

The Ghost of the Turkey

Farmer Jenkins had a lot of turkeys but his favorite one was Flo.
He said he would cling to her forever but at last she had to go
When the turkey died she made a vow
She would haunt him every night and now

There’s the ghost of the turkey moaning in the garden every Christmas night
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, on the wall in the pale moonlight.
May the wings and toes, parson’s nose, wriggle in your throat and hurt ya.
You’ve spoiled my end of a perfect day, oo-oo, gobble-gobble gertcha.

Farmer Jenkins, can’t get any slumber, stays awake each morn ’til two
Since that turkey’s chassis filled an oven and her giblets made a stew
Every night a voice cries mournfully
Oo, ya dirty crook you twisted me

There’s the ghost of the turkey moaning in the garden every Christmas night
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, on the wall in the pale moonlight.
May the wings and toes, parson’s nose, wriggle in your throat and hurt ya.
You’ve spoiled my end of a perfect day, oo-oo, gobble-gobble gertcha.

(quietly)
There’s the ghost of the turkey, coming in the garden every Christmas night
(gobble-gobble-gobble-gobble-gobble) oo-oo-oo (gobble-gobble-gobble), oo-oo-oo (gobble), on the wall in the pale moonlight (gobble-gobble-gobble-gobble-gobble)
May the wings and toes (gobble-gobble), parson’s nose (gobble), wriggle in your throat and hurt ya.
(emphatically)
You’ve spoiled my end of a perfect day, oo-oo, gobble-gobble gertcha.