Down by the Murray River's banks br I rest and send our giver Thanks. br Oh do I miss that Yankee feast br the turkey or a different beast br up on the table bending slightly br with young ones, and those oldies, sprightly br all fiddling in anticipation br to start the party of this nation. br There's cranberry with real berries br and on the server various sherries, br those roast potatoes look devine br red cabbage, cole slaw, shredded fine, br and salad with a thousand colours br and suddenly the old man hollers br let's get this show now on the road br I always felt that one small ode br should have been written long ago br the people love Thanksgiving so. br And even though the very thought br of thanking Him, the one who brought br those riches to the common man br is not apparent but one can br detect that all the people are br aware and grateful, from afar br they know who is their real Master br who keeps them from abject disaster br so when at last the glass is raised br it signifies that God be praised. br As long as I'm among the living br I'll miss American Thanksgiving.