"Right then! Fasten your seatbelts and tray tables, boys and girls! The F A A says we’re grounded, the turkey is still in the freezer, and my Auntie Flo just discovered the internet! It’s the Ballad of the Butterball Brawl! One, two, three, HIT IT!"

Well, I booked a flight on a budget bird with a wing and a prayer and a seat,

But the F A A said "Cut it by ten!" and we’re stuck on the warm concrete!

The line for the rental is three miles long, and the prices are hitting the roof,

I’m paying a grand for a compact car with a suspension made of truth!

We’re driving one-way through the pouring rain, past the wrecks on the interstate,

With a frozen bird in a duffel bag and a terrible fear of being late!

My sister is texting in capital letters, she’s claiming the "Head Chef" throne,

She’s banned the gluten and banned the fun and she’s banned the cellular phone!

Now the TSA agent, he looked at me, with a lamp in his hand and a frown,

He said "Is this for business or pleasure, son, or are you burning the city down?"

I said "It’s neither, sir, it’s Thanksgiving Day, and I’m bound for the family hall!"

He stamped my pass and he whispered low, "God save you from the Brawl."

So it’s HEY! (Hey!) The flight is delayed!

The pilot is drinking the lemonade!

We’re rowing on roads in the pouring rain,

To eat some turkey and feel the pain!

From the East to the West, we’re a raggle-taggle crew

With nothing to drink but the mountain dew!

Oh, save us all from the family call,

It’s the start of the Butterball Brawl!

We pulled in the drive at a quarter to five with a fender hanging low,

Uncle Joe is asleep on the lawn in the remnants of the snow.

I walked in the kitchen to lend a hand, but the scene was a terrible sight,

Like a bomb went off in a flour sack in the middle of the night!

Grandma sneezed a garden pea right into the mashed potat-ah

And the dog is licking the pumpkin pie like a hungry alligayt'ah!

My husband leaned to baste the bird, with a smile upon his face,

When his Samsung slid from his checkered shirt into the greasy base!

(Spoken Ad-lib): "It’s roasting! The data plan is roasting! Can you hear me now?!"

Now the power went out with a mighty crack, and the mixer began to spin,

My mother-in-law held it like a gun, and the spuds hit the wall and the chin!

She’s shooting the starch at the dining room chairs, she’s shooting the guests in the eye,

And the only thing safe is the neighbor’s dog who is eating the raw rib-eye!

So it’s HEY! (Hey!) The oven is cold!

The stuffing is covered in green and mold!

The mixer is spinning the spuds around,

Shooting bullets of starch at the family hound!

We’re burning the rolls and we’re burning the bridge,

There’s nothing left in the damn heavy fridge!

Oh, raise a glass before we fall,

In the midst of the Butterball Brawl!

Now we sit at the table, the tension is high,

We’re scared to look in each other’s eye.

The turkey is raw and the conversation is thin,

That’s when the "Politics" start to begin!

"Who did you vote for?" shouted Auntie Flo,

"I voted for Tulsi!" shouted Cousin Bo!

"I instigate fights for the fun of the game!"

Says the cousin who doesn't remember your name!

The gravy boat went flying through the air,

And landed in the middle of my sister’s hair!

Faster! Faster! Pass the peas!

Someone call the priest or the police!

It’s a Donnybrook! It’s a Scalliwag!

Put the leftovers in the body bag!

Well, the windows are broken, the TV is smashed,

The credit cards are maxed and the savings are cashed!

We’re sleeping in shifts on the living room floor,

While the wind comes whistling under the door.

We punched Russell Crowe? No, we punched Uncle Steve!

And now it is finally time to leave!

But the whiskey is flowing and the stories are grand,

Of the worst Thanksgiving in all of the land!

We’re alive! We’re alive! And we’ve got the receipts,

And we’ll never again take the budget seats!

So it’s HEY! (Hey!) We survived the night!

We put up a hell of a Celtic fight!

The turkey is gone and the phone is dead

And we’ve got a massive pain in the head!

From the North to the South, let the story be told,

Of the mashed potato bullets and the traveler bold!

We’ll see you next year, if we recall...

The legend of the Butterball Brawl!

Raise them up! (Raise them up!)

Bring them down! (Bring them down!)

Bless the chickens! (Bless the chickens!)

Pass the stout!

"Does anyone know how to get cranberry sauce out of a banjo?... Or a lamp?"