To merit all this trouble--
Shut up where I can have no fun
And bent until I'm double!
This morning all the folks rushed out
And chased me over fences
And here and there and round about
Until I lost my senses.
I ran toward the farmer's wife
And thought she would befriend me,
But even she--upon my life--
Did nothing to defend me!
Instead, she grabbed me by a foot
With no consideration,
And in this prison I was put
Without an explanation.
The farmer's sharpening an ax;
The children talk of "dressing."
Oh, my, I wish I knew the facts!
These rumors are depressing!
But all the future I can see
Looks very, very murky.
Just now I think I'd rather be
A chicken then a turkey.
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