The moon that night was very round
Above the town without a sound.
The harvest treasures there were found.
Thanksgiving has begun.
And as the moon above looks down.
Among the rows of stalks.
Not a person dares to talk.
And while the wind howls and sighs,
Down below gold treasure lies,
Of corn and beans and other things.
The moon rises up on hidden wings,
While in the house a family sings
To thank our God for all our things,
Our needs our wants our everythings.
Thanksgiving has begun.