The Age Old Question
The Top Man, the Cock of the Walk,
He loved being the head of the flock.
With the first faint ray of morning light,
He cocka-doodled with all his might.
The farmer was deep in a farmer like dream,
When he was wakened by a terrible scream.
The crowing his wife could no longer stand,
So the cooking fire flames she started to fan.
She'd do away with this feathery clock,
Planning to make her own chicken stock.
Our Avian friend managed to flee his abode,
Now we know why the chicken crossed the road.
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2010
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