The Rooster-Chicken Quandary

"Will you walk a little faster?" said the chicken to her rooster,
"There's a farmer close behind us, and he's right on my cabooster.
See how eagerly the farmer wants to kill me for my meat?
His family's at the table! Will you hurry? Cross the street!
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you cross the street?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you cross the street?

You can't really have a notion of how terrible it is
When they take us up and twist us, at the neck, and then there is . . ."
When the rooster yelled, "Watch out!" her sentence ended, incomplete.
His chicken took a flyin' look, and then she crossed the street.
Rooster would not, could not, would not, look across the street.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, look across the street.

"What matters it how far I go?" and he got no reply.
"Is my lifelong chicken waiting for me on the other side?"
The farmer whispered, "Want young chicks? Your own roost on the stoop?
The job entails a full-grown male to come and join the coop.
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the coop?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the coop?"

© Christy Armistead