Poem — The Three Wise Hens

The Three Wise Hens

The first mother hen had not much to say, It was getting quite cold so she’d gone off the lay. She was a much older girl who’d laid many eggs, All that squatting had been most unkind to her legs.

The second hen also had a casual job, Her occasional egg was only worth two bob. She’d much rather be laying about in the sun And scratching for tidbits when not on the run.

The third hen was colourful as chickens can be, She’d been hatched up the road under the old apple tree. As she strutted about she squawked with a whoop I hereby announce I have laid chicken fruit!

Trudy Smith