To the tune of "The Croppy Boy". Have a handkerchief at hand!

It was early, early all in the spring
When small birds whistle and do sweetly sing
Changing their notes from tree to tree
Except for Martin, the Spokane turkey

Firstly, Martin just cannot sing
A raucous gobble is Martin's thing
And don't forget, that he cannot fly
The tree-to-tree stuff just passed him by

Instead he mooches in the oul' bone yard
Thinking life is oh so very hard
Growing sorry for his own self
Wreaking havoc on his mental health

A natural death, or was it suicide?
The latter claim has been oft denied
But did I hear in oul' Martin's croak
The turkey equivalent of a suicide note?

Come all you turkeys, take advice my me
Don't spend your time in human cemeteries
Stay in the wild with your turkey friends
And spare a thought for Martin's tragic end