You’ve heard about the fox and Chanticleer?
Well don’t believe a single word of it.
It didn’t happen like he said at all.
Well first of all, that rooster was a pain,
a royal pain in you know where. I mean
he’d strut around the barnyard like a king
and thought he was a gift to all the chicks.
But let me tell you, when they thought they’d seen
the last of him there wasn’t any tears.
They made a fuss, but what would you expect?
If they’d stayed quiet, and he had escaped,
he’d know the truth. He’d know they paid me off.
That’s right. They wanted to get rid of him.
So easy, peasy, with the door ajar
I slipped into the hen house and I grabbed
him by his neck, his no good stinking neck.
I should have dropped him then and there, but no,
I had been paid to haul his carcass off,
and so I did. But let me tell you, he
just reeked. I don’t believe in all his life
he ever took a single bath. Not one.
I stood it just as long as I was able
but oh, the greasy smell. And finally
I couldn’t take it anymore and spit
him out. So he’s the hero. I’m the fool.
He says he tricked me, but I’ll tell you this,
it took me weeks to lose that rotten smell.