There was a little chicken
His name was Schipperke
He spied a green bead in the grass
But thought it was a pea
He plucked it out between the blades
And dropped it in his craw
He didn’t know how blind he was
It was a tragic flaw
Several hours later
It flew from out his ass
It shot across the chicken yard
And killed the farmer’s lass
It hurt our little Skipper
In body and in mind
He liked the girl with golden curls
So glossy that they shined
But poultry can be mean and they
Cared not about his hurt
The other chickens thought that they
Had finally hit pay dirt
Now you can witness, any day
With many squawks and clucks,
The chickens loading up our Skip
If they point him at you, duck!
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