Page 42 of Galactic Field Guide

The ship flew in from space
On board was a wrinkled face
It settled slowly outside the coop
As the farmer watched from his stoop

The farmer came across the barnyard
As the alien held out his galactic ID card
It's language was all incoherent gobbles
So the farmer picked up his axe from the cobbles

For the farm turkey had died, you see
From some kind of bird disease
And though the meat was strange
A meal the wife did arrange

This warning is for the planet Tirkie
Unless you're weird and quirky
If you want to keep on living
Don't come to Earth on Thanksgiving