The Chickyn

Chickyn! Chickyn! Bantam White,
In the henhouse of the Night,
What immortal spur or goad
Prompted thee to cross the road?

Why the highway, not the lane?
In what birdhouse was thy brain?
And when thy heart began to beat,
Why didst thou not move thy feet?

When the rusted Chevrolet
Came speeding, didst thou turn away?
Wast thou looking right not left?
Is that why we are bereft?

Now we, like thy feathers, droop,
For thy soul has flown the coop.
What burial is meet and just?
Underneath a flaky crust.

Chickyn! Chickyn! Bantam White,
In the henhouse of the Night,
What infernal spur or goad
Prompted thee to cross the road?

© William Blagaaawk