That It Was Not Ill Intentioned Poem by James McLain

Too split the chicken with it's own rubber neck.
Hungry eyes see the world for what it is.
And wine is fine vinegar to mix with each salad.
When we go fishing and the pigs home alone.
Sheep wear boots and live as shadows in a forest.
Some of that guilt worn and never is mentioned.
Under the yard are some worms when needed.
The pot out back needs more than a chicken.
That it was not ill intentioned; too serve our country.