Years twenty thousand since her birth.
Long, long ago, as poets say,
For good Thanksgiving holiday
A feast was spread of nice mince pies.
Of turkeys of tremendous size,
Cranberry sauce, and giblet stew,
Potatoes, corn and ice cream, too,
With salads, raisins, nuts and cake,
And all the pastry "Ma" could bake.
These days, alas! they don't believe