Ode to My Chickens

Ode to My Four Pretty Hens

They bawk bagawk bawk in the morning so early
With three out of four rosy combs red and curly
And one pea combed pretty who struts with the others
All of them hens, but none of them mothers
None of them mothers nor will they be
We live in the city, no room for a "he"
No beautiful rooster or cockerel proud
Not in the city, a rooster's too loud
But the girls seem happy to scratch and to sing
Some lay me an egg – now that's the best thing
They run in the daytime and scratch up the dirt
On the lookout for treats, they're always alert
They sleep every night in their cozy red house
Protected from predator, vermin and mouse
I'm new to the wonders of keeping the hen
But I cannot remember how I lived without them.

Kate

 

Thank you so much!