Hope was to be that thing with feathers
But instead I got cluckers
Neither rain nor stormy weather(s)
Will shut up the little....fellows
They tear and rend
From from wax to wane
The wire bends
With fatigue hardly feined
How much is the feed?
An arm and a leg
Just think! What a deal!
All for one lousy egg
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Both 'captivating'...and witty, Jim. Give us some more - I'm with Elysabeth's sentiments..! ! Cheers Bob