Poetry: The Chicken

The Chickens

Unknown Author

 

 

Said the first little chicken, With a queer little squirm,

“I wish I could find A fat little worm.”

Said the next little chicken, With an odd little shrug,

“I wish I could find a fat little slug.”

Said the third little chicken, With a sharp little squeal,

“I wish I could find Some nice yellow meal.”

Said the fourth little chicken, With a small sigh of grief,

“I wish I could find A little green leaf.”

Said the fifth little chicken, With a faint little moan,

“I wish I could find A wee gravel stone.”

“Now, see here,” said the mother, From the green garden patch,

“If you want any breakfast, Just come here and scratch.”

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