Tis the night before Thanksgiving and all through our house No turkey is baking; I feel like a louse, For I am all nestled, so snug in my bed; Im not gettin up and Im not bakin bread. No pies in my oven, no cranberry sauce Cuz I give the orders, and I am the boss. When out in the kitchen, there arose such a clatter I almost got up to see what was the matter. As I drew in my head and was tossing around To the bed came my husband, he grimaced, he frowned. And laying his finger aside of his nose, He scared me to death and I thought, Here he goes! He spoke not a word as he threw back my quilt And the look that he gave was intended to wilt. So up to the ceiling my pillows he threw I knew I had had it, his face had turned blue. You prancer, you dodger, youre lazy, you vixen Out yonder in kitchen, Thanksgiving youre fixin. But he heard me explain, with my face in a pout: "I'm just plain too tired and we're eating out!"