Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The pies were all baked and set away with care,
In hopes that dinner would all go smoothly there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of turkey and pie danced in their heads.
And Liz in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out in the hen house there arose such a clatter,
Liz sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the door she flew like a flash,
Tore out into the darkness with a dash.
The moon on the side of the hen house
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to her wondering eyes should appear,
But a great, fat opossum in the chicken nesting box.
Liz screamed for Sam, so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment he needed his gun.
Rapidly, Sam sprang from bed,
And he shouted "I'm coming!" and loaded his gun!
The rest, the sad story of the fat, greedy opossum
Is for you to imagine, and us to celebrate.
No more dead hens in the morning,
No more missing eggs and now peace at night!