This is an ode to the poor headless bird;

a fowl often seen that never is heard.

It’s as though there is one reason alone

that this poor creature has ever grown.

It’s here to feed us, this hapless chick;

we feed it on hormones so it’ll grow quick.

Then when it is grown as fat as it can

We head for the climax of our masterful plan.

Then the chicken who grew from one simple egg

doesn’t get the chance to bargain or beg.

Rather it’s simply “off with its head”

because out here the masses wait to be fed.

While chickens have Rights to argue at need

all its rights are cancelled if we need a feed.

So sweet little chicken all fluffy and white;

you will lose your head over dinner tonight.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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