I've had my fill of turkey,
perhaps a bit too much;
too much pumpkin pie,
sweet potatoes in my clutch.
And now, the stomach pays,
for the act of overeating;
if manners were the norm,
I'm afraid that I'd be cheating.
Why do we over do the things,
things we love and cherish?
and when the sleep does come,
it's often quite nightmarish.
Food will do that to you,
your dreams become bizzare;
the leftovers you take home,
you don't leave them in the car.
Another slice of pie won't hurt,
it slides right down, like jelly;
and later when, your aching,
it leads back to the belly.
Oh,  Thanksgiving is a beast,
with too much food and laughter;
for we neglect to overlook,
what comes to us soon after.