The Slaughtered Turkey's Ghost (1915)

The Slaughtered Turkey's Ghost

In the dead of the night to the ill-fated sinner,
Whose soul was oppressed with his Thanksgiving dinner,
A weighty repast which, forsooth, got the best of
The sufferer’s overworked organs digestive,
There came, without deigning to ask his permission,
A baleful and dreadful and stern apparition.
It bore no resemblance in form or in feature
To anything human. The terrible creature
Was nothing but bones. It looked like a colossal
Procrustean, stony, Doc Hollandish fossil.
It moved with slow steps, like a girl in a hobble,
And speaking in tones which suggested a gobble
Thus set forth the cause of its ominous visit:
“In me you behold not the fabled what-is-it,
Nor other creation of minds superstitious
Indulging in fancies unworthy and vicious.
I am as you’d see if your brain were not murky
The hapless remains of the Thanksgiving turkey.
Because of your greed I’ve been robbed of existence
To serve on your board as a piece de resistance.
You hacked me to shreds and you fed me in sections
To others who shared your debased predilections.
And now to come back, ’tis my purpose to haunt you—
No rest and no quarter henceforth shall I grant you.”
Appalled by this righteous and fierce condemnation
The sleeper awoke in a state of prostration.
And mopping his brow, he remarked, “If I'm living
And fit to go through with another Thanksgiving
No more in the flesh-pots accursed shall I wallow.
No surfeit in mine with a nightmare to follow.”
The moral is plain, howsoever you view it:
To feast is quite proper, but don't overdo it.
Burgoyne, Arthur Gordon. Poems. [Pittsburgh, PA?], 1915. 16.