The Chicken Run
I am a crazy chicken,
My gullet full of millet;
The heaving breast
Inside my chest
Is destined to be fillet.
I'm banging on my drumsticks;
My battery is powered.
On wonky legs,
As eggs is eggs
I'm sure I'll be devoured.
The cows are telling porkies
To save their precious hide -
But I am nuts
Inside my guts.
No buts: I'm swivel-eyed.
I'm squawk no easy picking.
Though squabble beef be bad,
I will not make
A sub for steak -
I'm chook-chook barking mad.