By Jenny Moxham

Twas the week before Christmas
And all through the shed,
Not a creature was stirring
For all were now dead.

Each sad, abused bird
Had been grabbed in the night,
And carried away
In panic and fright.

Stuffed tightly in crates
They could scarce take a breath
As they hurtled along
To a hideous death.

A death so horrific
So cruel and unreal,
It seemed like a nightmare
Bizarre and surreal.

Twas the week before Christmas,
And turkeys galore,
Now lifeless and headless
Were stacked in each store

Folk prodded and poked them
And chose the right size,
But none gave a thought to
The birds sad demise.

When Christmas morn came
For peace they all prayed,
The presents were opened
And dinner was made.

Then they merrily feasted
On turkey and ham,
And none saw that they'd turned
This day into a sham.

by Jenny Moxham