‘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!