A pilgrimage was made in 1620
From England to a dreamed-of “Land of Plenty.”
But when in mid-November they arrived,
It seemed it very well might be short-lived:
Scant rations made a less than lavish feast,
So by spring, “the greatest half” were all deceased.
If it weren’t for that world traveler, T’Squanto,
They’d all of them have died – and I mean pronto.
But for him, and “friendly savage” Samoset,
We never woulda hearda “Pilgrims” yet.
As long as they could keep that short-fused Standish
From doing something rashly and outlandish,
Chief Massasoit was happy, and content
To join their autumn harvest merriment –
Which, even if it weren’t “The First Thanksgiving,”
Was occasion to be thankful to be living.

                                           —Anon A. Mayflower