Voyage of the Gravy Boat

 

I tried to sail a gravy boat
around the mashed potato moat,
Its hull was thick, its course unsure,
upon a sea so rich and pure.

The waves were lumps, the tide was thick,
A fog of peas rolled in real quick.
Carrots clanged against the side,
but still I held my course with pride.

The stuffing cliffs loomed high ahead,
cranberry clouds turned evening red.
A fork struck down like thunder's blade—
but still, undaunted, on I stayed.

Through butter fog and seasoned breeze,
I charted paths with gentle ease.
'til turkey mountains held no more
and gravy dripped upon the floor,

I sank beneath that starchy sea,
A sailor bold, so lost at sea
So raise a toast with plate in hand,
to boats that sail through Dinnerland.

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