Thursday, August 10, 2006

Lee Roy


My neighbor brought a rooster home, a big old handsome boy.
He’s king of the Loa Hatchery, now, and she calls the bird Lee Roy
I’d guess he was a senator, in some near-distant past,
‘Cause all he does is strut and crow, all showboat and bombast.
Old Lee Roy has a gear loose, though, in his circadian clock.
He snoozes right through dawn, the hour for the crowing of the cock.
And then he senses that he’s missed his chance for his morning song,
And so that silly rooster goes and crows the whole day long.
As Shakespeare would say, this blatant hubris, verily, doth sicken,
But Lee Roy don’t care what Shakespeare says. Old Lee Roy just a
And maybe he ain’t boasting at all. It might be his way to beg,
To beg for a hen, so he could sire a bouncing baby egg.
The thing of it is that there ain’t no hens within his royal kingdom.
If I could find him one or two, I’d cage ‘em up, and bring dem,
So Lee Roy could fulfill his urge to join in the sexual ramble,
And maybe we’d have an egg or two to fry, or poach, or scramble.
I’ve not a clue to why Lee Roy feels the urge to celebrate.
Unless some lady birds jump his fence, his future is celibate.


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