The rooster sings his morning song,
knowing the Old Fat Hen will soon be gone.
She's full pride and struts the yard.
He thinks she'll end up deep in lard.
She won't lay eggs, She won't stay in her nest and in the hen house she causes unrest.
The Preachers coming to sit and break bread,
and the hens are all countin' on what they heard said.
As the farmer's wife shouts;
"This will come to a cease, or I'll fill my skillet with hot cooking grease!"
When Sunday's dinner came around, the Old Fat Hen could not be found.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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