Thanksgiving
_The Superintendent of an Almshouse. A Pauper._
SUPERINTENDENT:
So _you're_ unthankful-you'll not eat the bird?
You sit about the place all day and gird.
I understand you'll not attend the ball
That's to be given to-night in Pauper Hall.
PAUPER:
Why, that is true, precisely as you've heard:
I have no teeth and I will eat no bird.
SUPERINTENDENT:
Ah! see how good is Providence. Because
Of teeth He has denuded both your jaws
The fowl's made tender; you can overcome it
By suction; or at least-well, you can gum it,
Attesting thus the dictum of the preachers
That Providence is good to all His creatures-
Turkeys excepted. Come, ungrateful friend,
If our Thanksgiving dinner you'll attend
You shall say grace-ask God to bless at least
The soft and liquid portions of the feast.
PAUPER.
Without those teeth my speech is rather thick
He'll hardly understand Gum Arabic.
No, I'll not dine to-day. As to the ball,
'Tis known to you that I've no legs at all.
I had the gout-hereditary; so,
As it could not be cornered in my toe
They cut my legs off in the fond belief
That shortening me would make my anguish brief.
Lacking my legs I could not prosecute
With any good advantage a pursuit;
And so, because my father chose to court
Heaven's favor with his ortolans and Port
(Thanksgiving every day!) the Lord supplied
Saws for my legs, an almshouse for my pride
And, once a year, a bird for my inside.
No, I'll not dance-my light fantastic toe
Took to its heels some twenty years ago.
Some small repairs would be required for putting
My feelings on a saltatory footing.
_(Sings)_
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poem by Ambrose Bierce
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