Thanksgiving
Loudon Wainwright III
Lord, every year we gather here to eat around this table;
Give us the strength to stomach as much as fast as we are able;
Bless this food to our use, though communication's useless;
Don't let me drink too much wine; Lord, you know that I get ruthless.
Let us somehow get through this meal without that bad old feeling;
With history and memory and home cooking we're dealing.
Remind us that we're all grown up--adults, no longer children;
Now it's our kids that spill the milk and our turn to want to kill
them.
I look around and recognize a sister and a brother;
We rarely see our parents now; we hardly see each other.
On this auspicious occasion, this special family dinner,
If I argue with a loved one, Lord, please make me the winner.
All this food looks and smells so good but I can hardly taste it;
My sense of something has been lost; there's no way to replace it.
After the meal, switch on the game; there's just a few more seconds;
But I'm so tired I need a nap; the guest bedroom bed beckons.
I fall asleep, I have a dream, and it is the family;
Nothing bad has happened yet and everyone is happy:
Mother and father both still young and naturally they love us;
We're all lying on the lawn at night, watching the stars above us.
Lord, every year we gather here to eat around this table;
Give us the strength to stomach as much as fast as we are able. |