A farmer had a cockerel, the pride of any farm.
He strutted round the farmyard and caused nobody harm.
The lady hens all loved him gazed at him pride,
But the day that Cocky disappeared - well, everybody cried.
They searched the barnyard buildings; they hunted high and low.
They missed his lovely plumage; yearned for his morning crow.
They couldn’t find their lovely friend no matter how they tried.
“He can’t have left our farm!” they said, and everybody sighed.
The winter winds began to blow and the rain beat down as well.
Folk decorated households and . . . oh! From the kitchen came a smell.
Some news began to circulate - but it surely wasn’t true:
“Cocky is their Christmas lunch! Oh no, this can’t be true!"
The hens then fumed with anger. The ducks began to quack.
“How can we ever trust these folk if Cocky can’t come back?”
The Christmas meal was ready now and the carving knife came out.
The hens looked through the window pane and then began to doubt.
This couldn’t be their little friend. This bird was twice his size
“And he never had a breast like that and just look at those thighs!”
Suddenly they heard a crow, a well-known sound to all.
It came from near the stable block and beside the horse’s stall.
“It’s our Cocky” said the little hens. “Let’s run and say hello.”
"Good," quacked all the white ducks. "Where he went, we’d like to know.”
“Tell us," they asked Cocky, but the truth is sometimes hard,
For he’d visited the lady hens in the next-door farmer’s yard.
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