Cluck
We are all God's creatures, Mr Bird
but you've had a fairly good life
(the factory farmed would consider it charmed)
and now you must meet with the knife
for this is the season of peace on earth
and yours will be ultimate peace:
anointed with oil, sequestered in foil,
an onion to flavour the grease.
Oh, you may say 'Cluck!' when the pluckers arrive ---
I'm afraid it'll fall on deaf ears:
the heavenly host adore a fine roast
and their Claret is breathing, so 'Cheers!'
christina fletcher
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