Chicken Mutiny
The hens held signs and formed a line,
“More corn now, or we resign!”
One wore boots, the other a sash,
Clucked in rhythm and burned the trash.
Rooster tried to calm the tide,
Got egged twice and deep-fried pride.
Granny’s coop became their base,
With war paint smeared on every face.
They pecked the fence, they stormed the shed,
Demanded snacks and feathered beds.
Pa called ’em “poultry with sass,”
Till one wrote laws and passed a tax.
Ma tried reason with biscuit treats,
But they’d unionized and held receipts.
The preacher prayed with holy might,
A chick took host and claimed the right.
Now breakfast’s tense with eye contact,
And waffles taste like chicken pact.
Alan Nafzger (editor@bohiney.com)
Last Updated on August 19, 2026 by Alan Nafzger