Fleeing from Hens
the hens were stirred up, mad as hops
I figured it had something to do with pops
if anyone can rile up anyone, it is he
I ran off to the woods, and they ran after me
They were clucking and fussing as only hens do
I dove into the pond, still wearing one shoe
they jibber and jabbered, walking up and down the bank.
If you don’t have hens, you have the Lord God to thank.
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