Well Amigos ’twas the night before Thanksgiving and all through the casa

    Nobody was stirring – they were all full of pasta

The Three Musketeers: Red, Chelsea and Spike

Were snuggled in bed so turn off the light

Pretty told Slow to hurry to bed

She was so tired of petting Red’s head

As everyone hugged, kissed each other good night

Slow rolled over and turned out the light

No visions of sugar plums danced in this place

Their thoughts turned to friends in deep cyberspace

Their Sports Fans were many, their wishes were few

They wished that their Fans could come into view

But since they could not, they wished with their might

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night

P.S. Get me outta here Percy, The Red Man isn’t much of a poet…obviously.