Chicken Version of the Night Before Christmas

  ‘Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the coop,

Not a chicken was stirring

Not even their poop.

The chickens were nestled

All snug in their beds

 While visions of mealworms

Danced in their heads.

 Me in my pjs

 And Dave in his chair

Soon gave me to know

I had not a care.

When out in the yard

I heard such a clatter

I ran to the door

To see what was the matter.

Belle and Bonnie were having a rumble

Biting and jumping

  A right good dog jumble.

As I came back inside

And proceeded to bed

I saw a fat man

Dressed all in red.

He looked at me funny,

He looked at me weird.

He sure wasn’t Santa

He had no white beard.

Instead of a beard he had feathers on his chin

As I kept staring, he started to grin.

You don’t know me, do you?

He asked with a smile.

I don’t come round usually

Just once in a while.

Only to good little hens

I come to see.

Your hens have been just as good as can be.

I’m Chicken Santa,

I’m new at this job.

Seeing chickens whose names might be

Beatrice or Bob.

I’m bringing the chickens something they want

Something they usually have to go hunt.

 And then in a twinkling he opened his bag.

What I saw in it made me want to gag.

 A big bag of worms squirming around

Something I don’t see except in the ground.

He spoke no more to me, but went out to the birds.

Filled up their feeder without any words.

And looking at me with nary a sound

He disappeared from sight as I looked all around.

But I heard him exclaim, though he wasn’t in sight,

Merry Chickens to you and to all a good night!

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