Turkey Thieves Poem by Randy Johnson

I'm raising turkeys to sell for thanksgiving.
It's not a good way to make a living.
People steal turkeys from me.
I'm nearly broke and I'm as mad as I can be.
People steal my turkeys when I turn my back.
They cart dozens of them off in sacks.
I bought a guard dog but all he does is humps people's legs.
I need some help, do I have to beg.
I have to buy new turkeys to replace the old ones.
I finally got so mad that I bought a shotgun.
But the shotgun was old and it exploded in my hands.
Now I have two stubs and I can't drive to Florida like I'd planned.
Believe me when I say if you sell turkeys, you'd better quit.
I can't keep taking this shit.