When it comes to the White Sox, the real turkey isn’t the one on the table. | (Photo by Cem Ozdel/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)Leigh AllanThu, November 27, 2025 at 11:32 AM UTC·1 min readThere aren’t a whole lot of songs in the Thanksgiving holiday repertoire. Just about the only recent one, Adam Sandler’s “The Thanksgiving Song,” is already a nonsense spoof, so making a nonsense spoof of it is a tad redundant. Still, the probably best-known ditty of this holiday stems from a poem written by Lydia Marie Child in 1844, right around the time baseball was being invented, giving it an obvious baseball tie-in.
Over the river and down 94To the White Sox house we go,We all know the way despite our dismay At how the seasons flow.
AdvertisementAdvertisementAdvertisementOver the river and down 94To where such ill winds blowThat they cause stands devoid of fansAnd wrath with the owners to grow.
Over the river and down 94As we yearn for first-rate playWith pitches that zing and bats that ringCould such be the case one day?
Over the river and down 94,Despite a future grayOur hopes abound (our minds unsound?)On this Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river and down 94To the place now called The RateSox progress we know has been mighty slowIt’s been a mighty long wait.
Over the river and down 94Our fandom yet to break,When all’s said and done at least the food’s fun,Hurrah for the campfire shake!
When all’s said and down at least the food’s fun,Hurrah for the campfire shake!
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