Four hungry-looking animals

           All seated in a row;

           Why does not some one speak to them?

           That’s what I want to know.

           They all of them were bidden to

           A fine Thanksgiving feast,

           And now, it seems to me, their host

           Might welcome them, at least.

           ‘Twas Master Pug invited them,

           Why does he not appear?

           ‘Tis plain they think his absence looks

           Extremely rude and queer.

           Alas! poor Pug’s in trouble sore,

           The host he cannot play;

           No feast for self or friends has he

           On this Thanksgiving Day.

           He saw a turkey, large and fat,

           Upon the kitchen shelf.

           “That’s just the very thing I want,”

            Said he unto himself.

           He caught the turkey, but the cook

           Caught him with firmer grasp,

           And shook him till he could not bark

           But only choke and gasp.

           Meanwhile, those hungry animals,

           Who’d waited there in vain,

           Declared they never would be guest

           Of Mr. Pug again.

           One day a jolly bumble-bee,

           In coat of black and yellow,

           Got caught inside a window-pane;

           The silly little  fellow.

           He buzzed and buzzed against the glass,

           To Guy’s great enjoyment,

           Who thought to watch this funny thing

           Was just the best employment.

           But soon to touch those gauzy wings,

           Became Guy’s great desire,