They say he comes in the blackest of night
a chilling "Cluck!"
a thrilling fright
down from the heavens in final flight.
They say he's tall, a daunting height,
a feathery beast
a menacing sight,
a farmer's karmic kryptonite.
They say he's hot, a burning fiend,
with breath of flame,
a war machine,
with feet like swords, to split you clean.
Well, I haven't spotted this brute obscene,
and truth be told,
I'm not too keen
on trusting tales of cockatrice spleen.
It's nothing, that much is clear-
Now, what's this?
A peck at the door I hear-
"Oh god!" I shout and shed a tear.
It's him, it's him, my greatest fear!
the fowl tale is true,
now through the window, an avian sneer
I see him coming, my death is ne-
*disturbing chicken sounds then silence*