The pumpkin pies are cooling
Upon the pantry shelf
While Mother scurries to and fro
Much like a busy elf
We've casseroles of golden yams
And scallped corn to bake,
Cranberry sauce, plum pudding,
And stuffing yet to bake.
Tomorrow when the kinfolk come,
The rafters sure will sing.
We'll offer thanks, and then we'll eat
Till we can hardly sing.
Mid fellowship and hearty meal
And snowflakes on the way,
May every home be warmly blessed
On this Thanksgiving Day.
