George heard a story
A poet told
About a turkey
Not very old

The turkey was walking
Across the dirt road
To get to the other side
The story told

“That’s a chicken!”
Hulky did yell
“A turkey’s not a chicken!”
George did tell

“That’s not what I meant”
Now Hulky was mad
He wanted to know
If the turkey was bad

“He was on the road,
That’s not a bad thing to do.”
George was annoyed
He had other things to do

“Shut up and listen”
George told his green pal
“I’ll tell you the tale
Of the turkey named Hal

He was out on the road
To go buy some butter
His wife was at home
Cleaning her putter”

“Turkey’s don’t golf!”
Hulky was pissed
He had an appointment
That was not to be missed

George was now desperate
The story needed telling
But he couldn’t get anywhere
With all of Hulky’s yelling

“The turkey on the road
Got shot by a pig!
That’s the story,
You ignorant fig!”

“Well that is most tragic”
Now Hulky was crying
He couldn’t handle the fact
That the turkey was dying

“He isn’t dying
He’s most certainly dead
No bird survives
A shot in the head”

“So that’s the end?”
Hulky turned red
He ran off
To sulk in bed

He forgot his appointment
To get his hair cut
So now he looks like
A homeless mutt

The moral of the story
Goes something like this:
If George has a story
It won’t end with a kiss.

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