Cluck the Plucked and the Tale of the Gruesome Graspers
A truly fearless chicken
Is no common sort of bird.
A chicken’s not a hunter
It can’t fly! Or so I’ve heard
And chickens go in circles.
On the loose, they’ll never flee
'Cause they don’t think beyond their beak!
Their brain is like a pea!
But they’ve a secret weapon! It’s not their smell, or squawk. These birds have secret armor!
It’s not their pecks, or bocks.
Have you seen a chicken’s fingers?
Could you sleep at all that night?
They’re truly terrible objects!
They’d fill a shark with fright!
I’ve seen those gruesome graspers
Just once, in all my days
But that was all I needed
To learn of Chicken Ways.
The story goes like this, my friend.
It started with the flu.
My nose was red, my fever high
And soup would help, I knew.
Well, I could hardly walk, you know?
I pretty much just crawled.
I slinked down to the freezer
So sick, I nearly bawled
But chicken noodle soup was near!
Noodles, garlic, salt....
And now I had a chicken!
(Here comes the Farmer’s fault....)
I TORE THE PACKAGE OPEN!
It wiggled, just a tad...
But when you buy a packaged bird
Would you EVER think it's MAD?
That chicken came out wrestling!
That’s when I saw its Paws!
I’d only wanted soup and sleep...
Instead, I got those Claws!
One grabbed my red and dripping nose!
The other grabbed my beard!
Well, I was caught! And so I learned,
THAT CHICKENS MUST BE FEARED!
I heard these words: ‘I’m Cluck, good sir. And this is NOT your day.
You see, I’ve planned, since I was young,
To not ‘go out’ this way.
‘Born to be much more than soup’
As mother used to bock
Though other chickens heard and laughed,
I never dared to mock
You see now sir, though I’ve been plucked,
You really shouldn’t grin.
I am cold, but I’m alive.
And sir, I’ve got your chin.
A shirt is what I need. And pants.
If you’d just have the grace...
And when that boiling pot has cooled
I’ll give you back your face.’
In a flash, the stove was off!
You should have seen me race!
We waited for that pot to cool,