Daily Capital Journal

RIPPLING RHYMES
By Walt Mason

TURKEY TIME.

Thanksgiving Day is drawing nigh, we plan the bill of fare, discuss the juicy pumpkin pie, the turkey rich and rare. We have such cause for gratitude, for patriotic pride, we contemplate some oysters stewed, or, peradventure, fried. The season bids us shake off gloom, let mirth and music flow; while in the Potsdam dining room the kaiser's eating crow. The weary war will soon be done, its fires will cease to burn, and from their conquest of the Hun our soldiers will return; and waiting mothers will embrace the sons they've missed so long; and sweethearts meeting, face to face, will sing love's old sweet song. We'll celebrate the war lord's doom with all the curves we know, while in the Potsdam dining room the kaiser's eating crow. The kaiser's eating crow, my boys, and so is Eitel Fritz, and Kronprinz Friedrich makes a noise like one who's throwing fits; there is no turkey on the board, a crow is all that's there; the kaiser carves it with his sword, and damns the bill of fare. The crow is but a scrawny dwarf, the sickliest of things; and Hindenburg and Ludendorff will get the legs and wings. Oh, let our faces be abloom, let Bill have all the woe, as he sits in his dining room, and wrestles with his crow.