The Fowls

THE FOWLS 

by M. Nightingale

Black hens, white hens, speckled hens and

brown.

Clucking in the sunshine, strutting up and

down;

Very vain and happy they for were the truth but

known

Each thinks the loudest cackle in the farm-yard is her

own,

And each declares the egg she's left behind her in the nest

Is bigger and much better than the eggs of all the rest.

"Cackle-cackle! Cluck-a-club!

Cock-a-doodle-do!

The cock is king of Farm-yard Land,

But I am queen there, too."

White hens, brown hens, speckled hens and black,

With lots of little yellow chicks a-toddling at their

Back;

Father cock must come and look, his red comb on his head;

"Cheep at him, my pretties! Sir, be careful how

you tread!

Now are they not a lovely brood? Just see them peck

and run;

And see how my two soft warm wings will cover

every one.

Cackle-cackle! Cheepie-cheep!

Ah, Cock-a-doodle-do,

Although you're king of Farm-yard Land

I'm prouder far than you!"