The last piece of apple pie is gone;
How did it disappear?
The bowl of delicious stuffing
Has also vanished, I fear.
It happens each Thanksgiving,
When leftover goodies flee,
And each of us knows the responsible one
Couldn't be you or me.
The only way it could happen
Is readily diagnosed;
It must be the crafty, incredibly sneaky,
Still hungry Thanksgiving ghost.
By Karl Fuchs
