Or: My Lame Thanksgiving Carol.
Pilgrims feast, and then grow fat.
So sad, but way too quirky;
They need full bellies of deer and turkey.
Or pants could fall down, with buckles on shoes and hats.
A harsh winter carved numbers down;
But harvest gave plenty for all.
So we now celebrate with football.
Pass, punt, and kick! Touchdown!
Chorus:
O, Pilgrims and indians can be friends;
And so can we, to the end.
Don’t be so jerky,
Ad pass me the turkey.
O, the Pilgrims and indians can be friends.
