Two dozen chickens were hung on a line
Naked and gutted awaiting the sign
Marking approval to be served as a meal,
Tender and wholesome with great food appeal.

“Wait just a minute,” I yelled to be heard,
“What has become of the guts of these birds?

What do you do with the litter they poop?”
Such were the questions that jiggled the coop.

Powerful men with the palms opened wide
Will learn the full value of the bills they will ride.

Meanwhile the folks who want water that’s pure
Dream of the days without drinking manure.

“I’m sick and tired,” said the men with the power,
“Reading the poop about poop that is sour.”

We are the ones who are sick and tired
Of arrogant “servants” whose power is for hire.

Look at the record of cash they receive;
Choose for yourself who you want to believe.

Cuddle up close with the arrogant men
Choosing to snuggle with golden egg hens?

Or, choose to speak up to the men who “serve” you?
Chickens don’t vote, but the people sure do.

You are the folks who elected these guys;
Tell them, “Shape up!” or you’ll tell them goodbye.

Always remember that all politicians
Either serve people or soar with the chickens.

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