I’m gonna get me a chicken
and name him Earl.
He’s gonna be my very best friend
until he is no more.
We’ll play and he’ll cluck and I’ll laugh and he’ll eat;
all the seed I feed him.
Then, nature willing,
he’ll grow nice and fat for winter.
He’ll peck and crow,
I'll smile and high-step around the yard with him.
I’ll even let him find a mate; and encourage it,
but he’ll never officially procreate.
nor will his widowed wife be a mother,
but all the same, fun will be his gain.
It’s the least I can do to be fed a happy meal.
No comments:
Post a Comment