The man that slits the turkeys throats


THE MAN THAT SLITS THE TURKEY'S THROAT AT CHRISTMAS
by Robin Laing

INTRO: In the distance church bells chime,
Soon it will be Christmas time,
On the fire there burns a Yule tide log,
Carollers are singing too,
Noses red and fingers blue,
Sounds of children coughing in the fog,
But there's one man who'll be working,
When you're tucked up in your bed,
For he has got, a seasonal job,
His clothes are always red,

CHORUS: I'm the man that slits the turkey's throats at Christmas.
I'm the man that pulls their innards inside out,
I gather up the giblets and wrap them in cellophane,
Then just because it's Christmas I shove 'em back in again,
I secure their little ankles with elastic
Then I mop up all the slime with bits of rag,
I'm sure that it would please them,
To know before I freeze 'em,
I pop 'em into a little plastic bag,

When autumn leaves have fallen and winter winds do blow,
I visit all my poultry, shouting, "Five more weeks to go",
I send each one a Christmas card - it always is a funny yin,
Portraying thyme and parsley too, rosemary, sage and onion,
But I'm a kindly master, compassionate and dutiful,
And it ruffles up their feathers
When I tell them that they're "Bootiful"

Some people say I'm cruel, some say I'm insane,
But methods I've adopted are really quit humane,
I kill them, draw them, pluck them - it's the best way I have found,
Unless I feel vindictive when I swop the system round,
With my hand stuck up a turkey it's not a pretty sight,
But they die with smiles upon their beaks,
To tell me it's all right

One day this little turkey cock with teardrops in his eyes,
Whispered to me "Please sir, I don't want to die"
I said "Come here my chickadee - you don't look very chuffed,
Don't you know it's Christmas time so turkeys can get stuffed,
But you have really touched me and though we still must part,
There's going to be a place for you,
Right here next to my heart