Ode to Willy

Written by: Jeralynn Clark

Ode to Willy

Of seven children I have one
Whose brand new sport is chickens.
She raises them like children
She even makes them listen.
A mother hen herself
She has a coop and light
In hopes these hens will lay
She leaves it on all night.
She’s named them all, and sings to them
And they all start to sway
The hens all plucked the rooster
So he would stay away.
With all his feathers bare
No meds could save this brewster
The only choice to shoot him
This helpless naked rooster.
And with the rifle shot him
He stood there nice and calm
He didn’t move a muscle
He watched and looked forlorn.
They missed him twice
And could not believe
The rooster still
Stood on his feet.
By now they’re getting silly
Did not want to kill him really
Took one more shot
And knocked him out
And that was the end of Willy.