'Twas the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and I went to the marketI drove the car into the lot, but there was nowhere to park it.
The produce was stacked on the tables with care
In hopes that the shoppers soon would be there.
The apples and onions all snug in their crates
I knew that this Thanksgiving sure would be great.
And me in my flip-flops and carrying my bag
I wandered over to the stalls to see what they had.
When over at one vendor their arose such a clatter
I ran over there to see what was the matter.
The produce was running out, and quickly
The pit of my stomach began to feel sickly.
Oh the carrots, persimmons, eggs and leeks
Oh the garlic, potatoes, avocados and beets!
Where have they gone, were they bought up already?
I had to sit down, I was not walking steady.
While I was glad that so many folks had arrived
I was sad that my Thanksgiving would be deprived.
I would have to settle for grocery store fare
Because of all the early birds who showed up there.
As I headed back to my car, I gave out a whistle
And away I drove, like the down of a thistle.
And I heard myself exclaim, ere I drove 'round the bend
Where were you last Sunday, your fair weather friends?!?!