“I know you’re no spring chicken,”

The rooster rudely crowed

“Your little comb flaps when you walk

Because you’re pigeon toed”

“Your breasts they are a-saggin’

And your feather’s turnin’ gray

But still I gotta service you

So that them eggs you’ll lay”

With that he did his barnyard mount

But the chicken held on tight

She had him where it counted

And hung on with all her might

Soon his eyes began to spin

As he flapped his wings in vain

He begged her to release him

Then he passed out from the pain

The scene caused such commotion

The farmer came to check their coop

He caught his rooster fast asleep

So he turned him into soup

The moral of this story

If you choose to mock your mate

You’ll end up in hot water

And she’ll have your estate

Copyright © 2012 Patrick Granfors