By Frances Depeel
The rooster strutted around the pen,
Shifting his gave from hen to hen,
The Leghorn’s feathers were not quite right, in fact, he exclaimed, “what a terrible sight!”
The Bantam shone, her feathers so sleek,
Then the rooster noted, the curve of her beak!
“Disgusting!” he groaned as he pranced about,
“That Rhode Island Red must have the gout.”
“Her feet are huge and her combs too light,”
So again, he exclaimed, “what a terrible sight!”
The Plymouth Rock’s dots seemed all out of line,
“Adjust them,” he said, “If you want to be mine.”
The Sussex drooped as she tried on her hat,
His only comment; “You’re just too fat!”
The Black Minorca sat dreaming of Spain,
He shook out his wattles, and said, “You’re apian!”
The Orpington clucked with joy on her nest,
“Be quiet!” he yelled, “You’re worse than the rest!
The Wyandotte fell down and her feathers looked gray,
“You’re hopelessly ugly,” is all he could say,
Then in came a rooster, new to the flock, he was self assured, a Cock of the Walk.
He admired the Leghorn, and she primped her wing,
He flattered Miss Red till she started to sing.
He espied the Bantam, her feathers aglow,
He praised her appearance , and she put on a show.
The Plymouth Rock’s feathers were neatly in bars,
Not dotty at all, and her eyes were like stars.
“I’m supposed to be big,” said the Sussex with glee,
And invited this rooster for a nice cup of tea.
The Black Minorca was contented at last,
Her daydreams of Spain were all in the past.
He presented the Orpington with a nice feather muff,
It went very well with her feathers of buff.
The Wyandotte modelled in shimmering white,
The rooster clapped to show his delight.
The other rooster stood by quite befuddled,
He decided this rooster’s head was all muddled. He saw only the good things and never the bad,
The worst thing of all, the hens were glad!
So if you want to be the Cock of the Walk,
Be generous with praise, whenever you talk.
