Our chicken coup is rowdy
The cockerel’s chasing hen
When he’s caught the first one
He’ll set them off again
He’s such a cocky show off
Out every day at dawn
Crowing like a strangled duck
And spoiling my first yawn
He struts around the farmyard
Like a bobby on the beat
In his brightly coloured plumage
From his crop down to his feet
We used to have a guard dog
But now we’re sort of lacking
The cockerel had a scrap with him
And then sent him packing
He thinks he’ll get the best of me
With crowing huff & chuffing
But when he oversteps the mark
I shake my box of stuffing
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem