Oh, Mister Gobbler lived within
A barnyard, so I’m told,
And wished for all the hens to think him
Very brave and bold,
So he spread his tail into a fan
And strutted up the walk
And ev’ry now and then
Ol’ Mister Gobbler would talk:
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Take a look at me!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Who more fine could be?
And when the Autumn came again,
The little flakes of snow
Began to flit and fly about
When the cold North wind did blow,
Then Mister Gobbler, plump and proud,
He sang the same old tune
That he had been a-singin’ since
The very first of June:
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Take a look at me!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Who more fine could be?
One day he saw the pumpkins made
Into Thanksgiving pies,
A thought of wondrous cunning dawned
Upon this gobbler wise,
He hid himself in a corner
With his head beneath his wing
And had you stopped to listen there
You might have heard him sing:
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Don’t you look at me!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble!
Gobble, gobble, gobble!
I’m thin as I can be!