Hitched over turkey and booze

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thanksgiving dinner

The widow O’Bryan had her eye on Hank, but Hank was a bachelor confessed.
His job at the Double Halo A Ranch kept him busy, more than the rest.

Hank was not flirtatious. His life was the ranch and the cows.
He promised to stay a lone cowboy and never take the vows.

Marriage seemed like shackles, he couldn’t imagine the thrill.
But the widow O’Bryan would have her way. To her, Hank fit the bill.

She really didn’t know ole Hank. No matter, just the same.
‘Cuz to her he was available. Someday she’d wear his name.

Thanksgiving Day was coming. She would need to make a plan.
What could she do to make this cowboy want to be her man?

She knew ole Hank wouldn’t pass a meal of turkey and pumpkin pie.
She would invite him over for dinner, then she’d snare this hunk of a guy.

Hank accepted her invite, reserved and cautious of course.
Thanksgiving Day arrived, so he saddled up his horse.

Now Hank was a man of punctual time. Early he did arrive.
He knew too well the widow’s scheme yet couldn’t pass pumpkin pie.

Hank attempted conversation, to the widow preoccupied.
She was sending word to a preacher who’d be persuaded to take her side.

The widow O’Bryan pulled from the shelf her favorite whiskey blend.
Then with confidence, she asked, “Join me for a drink, my friend?”

She knew too well a festive drink with Hank would have no ebb.
The cowboy was about to be in a certain widow’s web.

The widow wasn’t gonna let Hank’s whiskey glass run dry.
To get him here took all her wits. There weren’t any bigger fish to fry.

Hank ate a bite of turkey. It was marvelous to taste.
But the widow’s booze caused him to lose and left him one big waste.

As Hank woke up and cleared his head the widow placed the band.
He was a might confused about the gold ring on his hand.

Hank’s head was spinning when he heard a man’s voice in the room.
The clergy’s voice spoke out so clearly, “You may kiss the groom.”

Well, then he glimpsed the preacher who had promptly been dismissed.
He was sneaking out the back door with a fifty in his fist.

So if you’re the only bachelor at this next Thanksgiving meal.
And a preacher sits beside you, I’d stand up and turn to heel!

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