How the Grump Stole Thanksgiving
In a land far away, where the turkeys did trot,
Lived a Grump in a cave, with a heart that was not.
His name was old Grumble, and oh, how he frowned,
For he hated the joy and the laughter around.
When autumn leaves danced in the crisp, sweeping air,
And pumpkins grew plump in the fields everywhere,
The Whos in the town, with their smiles wide and bright,
Prepared for Thanksgiving, a pure, joyful sight.
They’d gather ’round tables, with feathers and pies,
With mashed potatoes piled high to the sky.
Grumble watched from his cave, all alone in his gloom,
As the Whos sang their songs, filling each little room.
“Bah! Humbug!” he grumbled, “It’s all far too loud!
Such feasting and fun—I just can’t stand this crowd!
I’ll show them this year, I’ll put an end to their cheer;
I’ll make sure this Thanksgiving won’t come—no, not here!”
So he hatched a sly plan, with a twist and a turn,
To snatch every turkey—oh, how the Grump yearned!
He crafted a sleigh from old scraps and some wood,
And loaded it up with the best that he could.
With a heart cold as ice and his mind set on dread,
He snuck through the town, covering his head.
He crept past the windows, all shiny and bright,
While the Whos feasted merrily deep into the night.
He stole every turkey, each pie, and each dish,
The cranberries, stuffing—oh, he made quite a swish!
He grabbed all the candles, the corn and the bread,
And then with a smirk, off to his cave he sped.
But when morning arrived, and the Whos woke with glee,
They found their tables empty beside the old tree.
“How could this be?” cried the young and the old,
“Our Thanksgiving is gone! It’s a tale dark and cold!”
But deep in his cave, the Grump couldn't find peace,
For a something started stirring within him, a beast.
He heard the sweet echoes of laughter and cheer,
And suddenly wondered, “What’s missing? Oh dear!”
As he sat there alone, with his stash piled high,
He remembered the warmth of true friendship nearby.
With a flicker of hope, and a swish of his hand,
He bolted outside, ready to make a grand stand.
“The Whos shouldn’t suffer,” he muttered, quite shy,
“I’ll take back their dinners—I’ll give it a try!”
So he loaded his sleigh with the feasts he had taken,
And sped back to town, his old grumpy heart shaken.
When he reached the townsfolk, they gasped in surprise,
As Grumble’s heart swelled, big as pumpkin pie size!
“I stole all your treats, but I’ve come to confess,
Thanksgiving’s about love, and that’s what I miss!”
The Whos gathered ‘round him, with smiles on their faces,
In a whirl of good cheer, love filled all the spaces.
With laughter and warmth, they embraced jolly Grump,
And together they feasted, the loudest of thumps.
So this year they’ll always remember to give,
That sharing and kindness is how we should live.
And even old Grumble, so grumpy, so sly,
Found joy in their laughter, as sweet as pumpkin pie.
Now every Thanksgiving, the Grump is no more,
For he digs all the feasts and the joy that they pour.
So if ever you see a grump passing by,
Invite them to join you—don’t let their heart sigh!
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