In the oven it's gormuet perfection

The aroma puts a grin on my face.

Slowly it's cooking in that convection,

Outside the oven, I stand guard with mace.

Brown and fluffy you sit inside gleaming.

As in there you sizzle, you look so great.

While your flavors are blending and steaming,

I stare at you and think this must be fate.

Though you look so perfect; love, you'll be gone.

The turkey provides you no barrier.

For your destruction, I will not take long,

My stomach is now your new carrier.

Oh by Jove; oh my beautiful stuffing,

Without you my Thanksgiving is nothing!