The Birds On the Farm
Ten years ago, there was a cock
Who lived up to his name.
For though he left us all well-fed,
He left the yard in shame.
Replaced was he by one who was
A very silly goose.
That goose got cooked; he cooked himself;
A danger being loose!
And with him was a vulture,
And that vulture sure was mean.
He swooped down, getting us in war
that plucked us all quite clean.
I could not rest until the two of them
Were good and gone,
Praying I’d not have to watch
That grey goose on the lawn.
Another - grinning, wrinkly-necked -
On TV bobble-bobbling,
Paced with worn-out rhetoric
He was fond of gobble-gobbling.
And by him was his sidekick,,
Female version of a “Quayle.”
I hoped inside the white barn
that chick would never dwell.
The other bird, a darker fowl,
“said” he didn’t want a war.
He was called by some a “chicken"
But at least cared for the poor!
So for November’s bird
He was voted on one day -
The turkey that was chosen
Before Thanksgiving Day.
Two years have past and nothing's changed
The same old cuckoo song.
And I don’t see a good bird yet
To even come along.
How sad there’s no bird like the one
who from a forest came,
Then presided in the white barn.
Now a statue bears his name.
Like an eagle, symbol of
this stretch of land was he.
But since his time, few birds have flown
much higher than a tree.
It’s geese and quails and chickens
and turkeys growing here
while people on this vast great land
are filling up with fear.
I'd hoped our newest turkey were
an eagle in disguise,
and that he’d get to take us soaring
into bluer skies.
For how much longer can our farm
keep running all amuck,
in which case we’re all better off
electing Donald Duck!
For Nate Dilt's "I Hate Politicians" contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
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