THANKSGIVING


The trees are all dressed
In their colorful gowns.
The people are flocking
To faraway towns.



We children are dancing
Our eyes all aglow,
For early next morning
To Grandma's we'll go.



And when we arrive,
She will greet us with hugs.
We'll giggle and frolic
On braided rag rugs.



The kitchen will be
Full of fragrances sweet.
We children are eager
To sit down and eat.



The table is spread
With good things galore.
We slide onto chairs
Off of freshly waxed floors.



We fold tiny hands,
To patiently wait.
When the blessing is said,
We can fill up our plates.



But Grandpa is slow.
He's still washing up,
While Grandma, with cider,
Is filling our cup.



Eyes open in wonder
When Mama appears
With a turkey so huge,
We all start to cheer.



We hear Grandpa's footsteps
Coming downstairs,
Breathe a sigh of relief
When he sits on his chair.



We all bow our heads
And are still as can be.
For the reverent blessing
Is tradition, you see.



Grandpa's deep bassy voice
Gives thanks for the meal,
And the table that's spread
With so much appeal.



He gives thanks for the harvest
And his family so dear
And to keep us together
Till this time next year.



We say our amens
And the turkey is passed.
Potatoes and veggies,
Pumpkin pie is served last.



Our visit to Grandma's
Will end all too soon,
And we'll head out for home
'Neath the bright, harvest moon.


Copyright © 2000 by
Mary M. Alward
and
Margaret A. Willson




Music playing:
"Now Thank We All Our God."
Music: John Crugr (1598 - 1662)
Based on Eccleseasticus 50:22 - 24)
Lyrics:
Martin Rinkart(1586 - 1649)
Translated by:
Catherine Winkworth (1827 - 1878)