The Bulls Got Lucky
The roosters are clamoring for attention again, big, bold, mannish and bad.
Putting up such a male ruckus, all about themselves, the hens are mad.
The hens form a Baby-Making Brigade, everyone joins, that was ever sad.
Even Trixie Doo-Everybody Hen who’s never been particular who is her dad.
They lined up quickly, organized, wearing aprons and cat hats with cat ears, all pink
They marched to the pond, around the barn, and to the Farmer’s wife’s pretty blue kitchen sink.
They yelled, and they cursed every bad word they knew, then they stomped and they shouted all in sync.
The male sheep thought it was super hilarious, until their wives joined, wearing mink.
Hats out of fur, dyed pink, really made those judging sheep husbands sit up straighter and blink.
Ain’t gonna be any fun-loving action in the chicken coop tonight, is what we all think.
We big bad, bulls wisely kept our mouths shut after Head Cow raced around to tell us what was up.
We were the only animals in the barn that night who had any fun, except Mandrake a Pup.
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