The Death of a Chicken

The sun was shining on the grass
The chicken ran, he ran fast
The shovel lay, silent in the hay
And the mice ran blindly away
Cowboys songs can't tell the story
Of our chickens morning glory
The gun was packed, packed with lead
A sorry sight for the ckickens head
A fate undesired by anyone
This was a task better left undone
The farmer raise and took his aim
The chicken ran and screamd in pain
His life was taken for one man
His corpse may end up in a can
Or maybe ground, or minced, or sliced
To keep ti fresh it will be iced
What was once living is now dead
If you like this, go fix your head!!!


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