Over the River and Through the Wood: The Pandemic Edition (with apologies to famed writer Lydia Marie Child)

Not to the river, nor through the wood,

To Grandfather’s house we can’t go;

Our mama has fever, no way to leave her

Oh how this COVID does blow.

Not to the river, nor through the wood,

Grandpa we must stay away!

If we proceed, you may indeed

Get sick this Thanksgiving Day

Not to the river, nor through the wood—

Isolating inside our own gate,

It is a plague, though symptoms are vague

This is a regretful fate.

Not to the river, nor through the wood—

oh, how this virus does slow!

It rashes our toes and stuffs up the nose

Under the covers we go.

Not to the river, nor through the wood—

Grandma can’t see us tonight,

She will say, “O, dear, no children are here,

I’ll eat everything in sight.”

Not to the river, nor through the wood—

Grandpa we worry you’ll die!

Despite all the doom.  At least we have Zoom.

And some store-bought pumpkin pie.

Not to the river, nor through the wood,

We do, what doctors will say

And though it might hurt; but not to sound curt

Curse this Thanksgiving Day.

Stay safe, everyone, and we’ll see each other next year!