I went off turkey years ago because I found it dry and lacking in taste, and I gave it up completely during my vegetarian years.
Since my return to meat eating ways, I have had turkey that was moist and tasty, prepared by finer cooks than me. Still I prefer meats that are naturally higher in fat like, belly of pork; goose; duck, etc.
This year we are going to be enjoying leg of lamb, which makes more sense to me than turkey. After all according to the nursery rhyme, ‘Mary had a little lamb’, she didn’t have a turkey and anyway what did the turkey do to be singled out as the main ingredient in the Christmas day meal?
I must have been thinking this when I came up with my Christmas poem back in my vegetarian days called, ‘Christmas Joy (Unless you’re a Turkey)’.
Below you have the option of reading it or hearing it being performed. I’d love to hear what you think of it, good or bad.
Have a wonderful Christmas, whether you celebrate it or not and wherever you may be.
[youtube=http://youtu.be/nRgNP9Aef1Q]
Christmas Joy (Unless You’re a Turkey)
Christmas, oh what joy it brings,
when everyone but the turkey sings.
Christmas is the time of year,
when the turkey pays the price so dear.
Christmas is the time you see,
when the farmer says, no more for thee,
you’ve had your fill throughout the year,
you’ve gobbled and gobbled, since you’ve been here.
You’re big and brave and strong and bold,
only because your fate you haven’t been told.
Your destination is on the label,
it says, “On the 25th you’re on the table”.
Your feathers all plucked, and your giblets torn out;
if it makes you queasy, don’t scream and shout,
because if you think, that’s the end of the gore,
rest assured, there’s plenty more.
Off comes your head and into the oven
and the hours you spend there, Oh, at least a dozen.
Then you’re surrounded by potatoes for roasting;
a clink of glasses, it’s your health they’re toasting.
You come out of the oven, all crispy and brown,
good job you’ve no head, or there’d be such a frown.
You’re placed on the table, so safe and steady;
Papa’s at the head and his carving knife’s ready.
Oh, what can I say now? The end is so near,
your final destiny, it’s taken a year.
To feed and prepare you, for this special day,
to celebrate the birth of the child in the hay.
Now hold on a moment, can this be fair,
to celebrate a birth, no justice in there.
You have to snuff it, have your candle put out,
because it is Christmas, oh I feel such a lout.
All of that teasing, I must apologise,
for when the child is born, the turkey dies.
Merry Christmas!