Like a Blizzard                                 

When rain did freeze, and ways did slicken,
Across the road, there ran a chicken…

It slipped, and on the surface did slide;
It slid on its belly, its beak open wide…

It did swallow ice, in gullet and gizzard;
Inside it felt, like out in a blizzard.

           * 
*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *   

  Chicken in the Rain

There once was a chicken
Who stood out in the rain…
And the rain was stickin’
From freezing, ‘twas plain…

A rooster it was, and not a hen,
The king of the chicken domain,
His realm, a poultry pen,
Open to sky, open to rain...

And soon he wore a coat,
A coat he believed so shiny, so nice!
But the coat so cool, you’ll note,
Was drops of rain, there frozen to ice…

The rooster chicken did crow:
"Cockle doodle doo,
                    O do, do look at me!
I've a shiny coat to show...
And on my noodle too,
                    a crown for you to see..."
  
And with his beak asmile,
He spoke in chicken talk,
    "Buck, buck, b'gawk...
    Mine's the latest style...
    "See, what's atop my head,
     Upon my comb of red"!

Then into the coop he went,
And perched on a trough inside...
He stood, with his head unbent,
And looked aloof with pride!

But soon his coat and crown did drip,
And puddled aside the feeding trough...
And soon some patches, unsewn did slip,
And his crown and coat, were melting off!

From out their beak and throat:
The hens did chicken cluck:
“Your cool and shiny coat,
Didn’t stay stickin',
            didn’t stay stuck…”

        *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * 

A Dog in a Log

There was an old dog
That chased a red fox
That ran in a log,
There hollow like a box…

Now this canine,
     just had dined,
Before he followed
     the fox behind;
His belly was a little plump,
A little round like a little stump...

Yet that old hound,
      was determined and bound,
To catch that fox
     
 his nose had found.

He squeezed into
      that hollow place,
That narrow and woody space...
But alas, inside got stuck
And now, was out of luck!

Meanwhile,
       With a smile,
The red fox ran out,
Ran over the hill;
The dog's poor snout,
Could smell him still…

He did howl and bark,
And woofed and woofed!
In the hollow there dark
He knew he'd goofed...

His belly was a trifle fat,
He couldn't wait, until it shrunk;
But in there came a polecat,
Another name for a striped skunk…

O me, O my!
The dog did sigh…
I wish I could hurry
             And shrink,
For that skunk, so furry,
             Sure does stink!
      John Riedell
 

   
 

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Site Last Updated on 04/09/13