Chicken poem
IP: 118.93.6.131


Cock-a-doodle doggerel

CHICKENS ARE RATHER DECEPTIVE,
Quite easily misunderstood,
While at first they appear
To be stupid and queer
They do hundreds of things that are good.

THEY CAN BRIGHTEN OUR DAY, THEY’RE FLAMBOYANT,
All flashy like bright troubadors,
With capes iridescent
And combs fluorescent;
Like rainbows with feathers and claws.

THE COCKERELS, ESPECIALLY, ARE GAUDY
When they come out and crow at sunrise.
Cocks look hedonistic,
Arrogant, chauvinistic.
(Their hackles make super trout flies).

AND WHILE, IT IS TRUE, THAT A PULLET
Is usually dowdily dressed,
She provides, it’s expedient,
A useful ingredient
With which I am greatly impressed.

I REFER TO THE HEART OF THE OMELETTE
The secret of many a treat -
Such as chocolate log,
Benedict, or egg-nog
And most other things you can eat.

OH, EGGS ARE A BLESSING ON HUMANS.
I’m sure they have saved many lives.
Boiled, poached; fried with rice;
They’re a meal in a trice,
(And an easy way out for young wives).

I’M PARTIAL, MYSELF, TO THE BROWN ONES,
They make such a taste-tempting sight;
With little tan flecks
On their shells, they’re quite sexy:
And much more attractive than white.

POULTRY FEATHERS ARE USEFUL FOR STUFFING
The odd bedroom pillow or two;
And the tails of the roosters
Are great ego-boosters
For military officers who

WEAR THE PLUMES IN THEIR HATS WHILE PARADING
And taking salutes from the soldiery.
Self-aggrandizing
Without realizing
They look just like over-dressed poult-ery.

GIVE PRAISE TO THE FOWLS OF THE FARMYARD.
(And free the poor hens from the batteries).
We must stop being hateful
And show them we’re grateful;
Let us heap on them plaudits and flatteries.

'ALL HAIL PLYMOUTH ROCKS, OLD ENGLISH GAME COCKS
And Orpingtons, buff, black and blue;
Wyandottes white
And Light Sussex bright
And Rhode Island Reds, of course, too.'

IT’S SAD WHEN YOU THINK THAT THE CHICKEN,
Despite all the good points it’s got,
Is shamelessly used,
Exploited, abused
And destined for oven or pot.

YOUR FOWL, IN THE END, IS A DRUMSTICK,
Coq au vin or rotisserie hen
When life comes to its close
It becomes Parson’s Nose
‘Nother helping?’ ‘Yes please - oh . . . Amen!


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