Cock-A-Doodle-Do

“Cock-a-Doodle-Do” By Dane Smith-Johnsen There once was a very fine rooster. He would strut with his wings spread out wide. The hens in his pen called him “Brewster”. They liked to flap around at his side. “Cock-a-Doodle-Do!!! The day's light grew.” Quickly off to lay eggs ran the gals. He flew to his perch; boasted anew. Protecting hens meant no time for pals. One day he sat proudly on his roost, Curious, “Grandson” came; he was three. Brewster stretched out his neck, his craw loose. “Cock-a-Doodle-Do!!! Listen to me!” “Grandson” loved to watch and feed the chickens. Brewster crowed; the boy ran to the pen. Neck stretched. Beak aiming. “Brew-roo” peckins’- Little man. Boo-booed hand. Kiss would mend. Brewster's life would never be the same. Feelings hurt. “Grandson” sobbed for a while. Grandma soothed at boy's side, rooster blamed. “Cock-a-Doodle-Do!!!” Sung in exile. All the hens in the pen played and lay. While inside, “Grandson” stayed well as new. Quietly heard in the distance, “Hey!” “Cock-a-Doodle-Do!!! Boo-hoot, I’m stew!!!”