Thursday, October 29, 2009

Poetry 12

We found this poem several years ago in a library book; I copied it down and then lost the paper. Last week we were delighted to find it again in a different library book. Here it is on the blog so we won't lose it again!

The Hen
by Lord Alfred Douglas

The Hen is a ferocious fowl,
She pecks you till she makes you howl.

And all the time she flaps her wings,
And says the most insulting things.

And when you try to take her eggs,
She bites large pieces from your legs.

The only safe way to get these,
Is to creep on your hands and knees.

In the meanwhile a friend must hide,
And jump out on the other side.

And then you snatch the eggs and run,
While she pursues the other one.

The difficulty is, to find
A trusty friend who will not mind.

1 comment:

Lisa said...

My dad would appreciate this. His father, my grandpa, was a frustrated suburban farmer who raised chickens, pigs, and a cow in their Panorama City, CA backyard. (Apparently the zoning laws were a little more flexible back then...) Dad was in charge of gathering eggs and hated it because the chickens were so mean!