A Generous Helping of Turkey

Once there was a housewife,

Whose spouse and kids demanded

Her to work from dawn till dusk

And still took her for granted.

Her name was Mrs Murray,

She hoovered, ironed, cleaned,

Tidied, cooked and made the tea

Continually, it seemed.

This restless, dogged servitude

Left her quite deflated,

Especially since all her toil

Went unappreciated.

Her normal, routine, daily tasks

Alone, were all-consuming,

So just imagine how she felt

When Christmas started looming!

On the last day of November

She went into her kitchen,

And found upon the countertop

A scroll on which was written:

“To cook up the best Christmas

For all within your dwelling,

This Turkey is assured to give

A very gen’rous helping!

Call quick to place your order

(Or email, if preferred)

To have delivered to your door

This most terrific bird!”

“Well, that sounds like a decent deal,”

Considered Mrs Murray.

“I think I’ll order one at once;

That’s one less Christmas worry!”

And so she placed the order,

As per the note’s suggestion,

Yet how that little scroll appeared

She never thought to question…

Next day the order was fulfilled;

The doorbell rang at dawn.

Mrs Murray answered it,

And looked out on the lawn.

The housewife did a double-take,

For in her garden stood

The most stupendous turkey

With a floppy crimson snood.

Its wattles and caruncles

Were cobalt blue and crimson,

And its grand, resplendent plumage,

Did shimmer, glint and glisten.

“Jeepers!” Mrs Murray thought,

“Is this some kind of joke?”

And then as if to answer her,

The Turkey flipping spoke!

“Good morning, Mrs Murray,

I believe that I’m expected,

Firstly, let me thank you that

I’m the turkey you selected.

As you know already,

I’m here to lend assistance

To help you put together

The best Christmas in existence.”

Mrs Murray, never once,

Had met a bird so gracious,

Not to mention one as smart

Or naturally loquacious.

She laughed and cried, “Please, do come in!

Your whim is my delight!

You can take the guest room,

Third doorway on the right!”

She hollered to her husband,

“Please come and meet our guest!

Children, come and say hello,

I’m sure you’ll be impressed!”

Mr Murray, from his armchair,

Said, “I’m preoccupied,

But be a darling, wifey dear,

And bring me something fried.”

The children, too, the little brats,

Called out, “We’re too busy!

Go and bake us muffins

And pour us something fizzy!”

The Turkey interrupted,

“Just leave those tasks to me.

Go and put your feet up

And have a cup of tea.”

That dazzling Turkey made the food

And served it in a flurry,

Without the ingrates catching on

It wasn’t Mrs Murray.

After that, it cleaned the house

And carried out the chores.

It even fixed the boiler

And steam-cleaned all the floors.

“That’s that!” declared the Turkey,

“Now let’s get down to business;

Tomorrow I’ll get cracking on

Concocting up your Christmas!”

And so the Turkey set about

The careful preparations

To formulate with expert skill

Their Christmas celebrations.

Firstly, it sawed down a tree

Of perfect shape and size,

Then furnished it with tasteful lights

And crystal butterflies.

It fitted out their dwelling

With polished elegance,

Right down to homemade candles

With subtle Yuletide scents.

It hung mistletoe from rafters,

Fixed wreaths to all the doors,

And had a custom punch bowl

Made at the glass-blowers.

For the family, it knit jumpers

Bespoke to every stitch,

Conditioned with essential oils

So that they wouldn’t itch.

It trussed up all the presents

With colour-coded twine,

And exquisite paper

Bought from Tokyo online.

Each evening after everyone

Was stuffed on home cooked feedings

The Turkey did the dishes

Then staged Charles Dickens readings.

That dear old bird did everything

With such flair and finesse,

That Mrs Murray, bless her socks,

Was not weighed down by stress.

The only thing that gave her

A pang of sad remorse,

Was that this brilliant Turkey

Was meant to be main course…

In fact, the thought of having

The Turkey plucked and trussed

And served up hot for Christmas lunch

Filled her with disgust.

So she went into her husband,

And told him, very boldly,

“Our guest will not be dinner!

I don’t care if it’s poultry!

It’s oh-so friendly and polite,

Besides, what kind of host

Would welcome such a genteel guest

Then serve them as their roast?”

Her husband snorted, “Stuff that bird!

With breadcrumbs, sage and onion!

I don’t care if it’s friendly,

I still demand my luncheon!”

She pleaded with her family,

But they refused to listen;

“We have to have it plucked and stuffed

And roasted; it’s tradition!”

She couldn’t bear the horrid thought

Of serving it with stuffing,

And so for Christmas lunch she served

A great big plate of nothing!

The Turkey, none the wiser, cooked

A heap of vegitibbles,

And served them up with white Shloer

And little cocktail nibbles.

Mr Murray and the kids

Floundered in confusion;

Their appetites had never faced

Such ruthless persecution.

“Why, just look at that turkey!”

Decried the youngest son,

“We can’t eat that, you nincompoop!

It’s clearly underdone!”

The other kids and husband

Awakened from their stupor,

Crying, “Give us meat, right now,

You worthless party pooper!”

Then with a tinkle-ting-ting-ting

Amid the mounting tension,

The Turkey, with a spoon and glass,

Attracted their attention;

“I’d like to make a Christmas toast

To Mrs Murray, who,

Through some miraculous technique,

Puts up with all of you.

She washes all your laundry!

She buys and cooks your food!

This lass deserves a Nobel prize

Not least your gratitude!

But nonetheless you sluggards

Deride and criticise her

Because she didn’t rustle up

Your favourite appetiser!

But listen here, you lousy slobs;

That all ends today!

Mrs Murray, is there something

Else you’d like to say?”

The housewife, duly prompted,

Leapt up to her feet

And chastened all her family

With words I can’t repeat.

She bellowed at them for an hour,

Like someone from the navy,

Wilting all the Brussels sprouts

And curdling the gravy.

After, all the family,

Now yielding to the missus

Left the table, saying, “Thanks,”

Then went and did the dishes.

Mrs Murray caught her breath

And fell back to her seat.

The Turkey winked and said to her,

“I see my work’s complete!

But now the lesson has been learned

You need me here no more…”

Then with a courteous nod, the bird

Proceeded to the door.

Mrs Murray shed a tear,

And blubbered, “I’m indebted!

How can I ever thank you?”

The Turkey said, “Forget it.

I need to thanks! I don’t want paid!

My services were free.

Frankly, I’m just grateful that

You haven’t eaten me!

Thank you, Mrs Murray,

I hope that in the future

You’ll not indulge the selfish whims

Of any thankless moocher!”

It spread his wings and just like that

It shot into the sky,

Ignoring all the facts that say

A turkey cannot fly.

She never saw that bird again,

But from that moment on

Even with no Turkey help

Her housemaid days were gone.

As for her lazy family,

They soon picked up the slack

Enlightened to discover that

Their mother’d learned to nag.