Christmas Truce

Black feathered mass, 

Red dangly bits flopping

Aimlessly as you run

Squawking, bobbing,

Clearly no great brain

Inside and rather dry,

Pale and stringy to

Eat but somehow

Turned into a symbol

Of new birth and 

Good cheer:

From now on

In deference

And because 

You're no that

Delicious,

I'll pass.