SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

Here's a Challenge! idea sent in by JenEllen -- Gobbler's Gone For Good: Cemetery Turkey Is Laid To Rest - Death Is Not Due To Fowl Play -- (Spokane, WA) When a tom turkey strutted onto a cemetery just before Thanksgiving, people figured he was either a farm escapee trying to avoid ending up the centerpiece of a holiday dinner ir a wild bird just passing through.  But the bird that became known as Martin A Gobbler remained for good, and he hardly overstayed his welcome.  The turkey - eventually determined to be wild - took up residence for seven months, adding unsuspected levity to graveside services.  The gobbler also attracted gawkers who came to see him chase cars in the parkinglot and fend off the ducks who invaded what he considered his turf.  Martin died June 24th, and got a farewell fit for a creature far higher on the food chain.  The bird, believed to be around a year old, was found dead on the grounds with no obvious signs of trauma.  The memorial drew about 50 people and featured an altar, photo, and flowers with an attached note "Your gobble will be missed."  The turkey's cremated remains are stored in a small blue urn in the office of the funeral director while they plan to incorporate them into a monument featuring a bronze turkey statue placed near the office entrance.  The cemetery owner believes Martin's biggest burden in life was his apparent inability to find a mate.  Staff never saw a hen on the grounds, and Martin's flamboyant displays of strutting and pecking car tires were merely for human consumption.  "He didn't enjoy his life of celibacy at all" stated the groundskeeper  "He would get all fluffed up and parade around here like he owned the place.  He was trying to attract a mate and there were none to attract."


The Bird of My Heart by derrymacash
(Tune:  Nell Flaherty's Drake)

derrymacash's Comments:  But what if somebody did actually kill poor oul' Martin?  Yes . . . it's another opportunity to trot out a parody of "Nell Flaherty's Drake"!

Oh me friends of renown, I pray sit you down
For news has come round that may cause you to swoon
For the bird of my heart, the turkey called Mart
Was forced to depart in the middle of June
From his short life of pain in the town of Spokane
And never again shall he shake his oul' tail
Some character vile has wiped out our smiles
His venom and bile has caused us to wail

I hope that the goat gets a dose of the bloat
Or a bone in his throat as he chews on a fish
Or he falls in a pit that is brim-full with shit
Or he happens to sit on a seat damp with pish
May the fleas swarm in legions on his nether regions
And cause him great lesions and suck him near dry
May he get in a fight down the pub every night
And with left and with right someone blacken his eye

As he pulls on the chain may the loo fail to drain
And he'll have to explain to his mother-in-law
May his flies never zip, may his soles never grip
May his piles give him gip till he's scratched them red-raw
May he suffer from chronic gout, gallstones and colic
May one of his bollicks swell like a balloon
And the other contract, may he find himself sacked
Or often attacked by some knife-wielding loon

May he suffer from stutters, his heart beat to flutter
A spell in the gutter would do him no harm
A slap in the kisser, a dig in the fizzer
A midsummer blizzard to white-out his farm
A sudden eviction, a string of convictions
Banes and afflictions to plague all his days
Muscles like jelly, a sag to his belly
And his oul' breath so smelly it causes a haze

May beasts ad infinitum queue up to bite him
May women to spite him turn down his advance
May sniffles and wheezes, splutters and sneezes
All sorts of diseases lead him a dance
From carbuncles and pimples may his oul' face be dimpled
Of no ailment simple may he ever complain
May he pooly the bed till the moment he's dead
The scut that put paid to the bird of Spokane

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