MIDWEEK POETRY. The Ballad of Spring Chicken, or things aren’t what they seem.

 

http://gigisrantsandraves.wordpress.com/2013/07/15/spring-chicken/

Something different this week. The lady on the above link, she calls herself, Hit and Run began following my blog last week. She is such a talented artist, poet and writer that I felt the need to introduce her to you all. She conspires with Melanie at http://wordifull.com/ on some wonderful drawings and poems, at the moment it’s chickens. If you want to be amazed by Hit and Run have a read of her Conversations with Death column.

To see the inspiration for my poem have a look at the top link, the chicken drawing is a real hoot. Without further ado I present for your literary enjoyment,

THE BALLAD OF SPRING CHICKEN.

The chicken walked into the bar
she bore a heavy load,
I sidled up beside her
and said, ‘Why’d ya cross the road?’
She cast a glance at the barman
and let out a mighty cluck,
‘What do they call you handsome.’
I ruffled my feathers, ‘it’s Chuck.’
The barman slid a heavy glass
of lemonade and gin,
it stopped before the tired hen,
she gave a rueful grin.
She dipped her beak deep in the glass,
I certainly was impressed, she guzzled
down that wicked drink,
I thought, I’ll make a pass.
‘Now you’re a pretty Chickadee,’
I chortled, with a leer. ‘I thought a tough
old boiler would settle for a beer.’
A tiny tear fell from her eye and hung
off a silver feather,
she opened up her loaded sack,
now I certainly was a quiver.
I didn’t know what it enclosed
until she pulled a gun
and pointed it at my scarlet comb
and said, ‘Now listen son.
I’ve lived a life of hardship, of musty
corn and grit,
and this old Spring Chicken ain’t
taking anymore of it.
I worked my tail off on the Rio Grande,
smuggling large eggs over the border.
Now I work for the Colonel, bagging
big cockerels to order.
So finish your drink you handsome
chump and get ready to meet your maker.
By the look of those big tender thighs
you’ll be a Christmas baker.
A shot rang out, the feathers flew,
Big Red he was no more.
Spring Chicken dumped him in
her sack and waddled out the door.
The barman stood and watched her go,
his customers clucked in fright,
as Spring Chicken crossed the road again
disappearing in the night.
By Laurie.

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15 thoughts on “MIDWEEK POETRY. The Ballad of Spring Chicken, or things aren’t what they seem.

  1. Pingback: MIDWEEK POETRY. Yes, it’s Chickens again or Laurie’s mid week snack pack. | laurie27wsmith

  2. Raani York

    Why do I all of sudden start dreaming of chickens? Grilled, with pastrami, lemon grass, honey whiskey…. it’s scary!!! LOL
    I love it anyway!! 🙂

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      As long as Spring Chicken brought it to you, you’ll know it’s fresh from some border town bar and finger lickin’ good.
      I may be doing a rat poem in the future, so don’t go all King Rat on me. ( google it for the movie reference). Thanks for popping in my Dear.

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  3. hitandrun1964

    Far Side is one of my favorites. So funny and true. No, I haven’t found the parrots. I will have to look again. Yes, the silver car, heavy sigh. And no doubt about it…blog friends it is. Yes, quick artist, for sure. Not a lot of time spent thinking about it…more like splash and dash.

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  4. hitandrun1964

    I’m overwhelmed by your kind words. I don’t think I’ve ever been called a lady before either:) Thank you so very much. The Chicken adventure would not have been half as much fun without you on board. Now that you are an official “girlfriend,” I will alert you to any new mischief we are planning. Thank you for reading Conversations with Death. I appreciate that very much. I wanted to savor your blog so I just got around to seeing all of your wonderful photographs and reading your lovely words. I want the silver car, by the way. I don’t think we could fit a lot of chickens in it but hey, that would be one sweet ride. Hit and Run came into being because I did a lot of political art at one time and it really was, hit and run art…. Thank you again…for everything.

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    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      Never been called a lady? Oh my. I am so happy to be part of the chicken adventure, even if I wander to the edge of the far side, (Did you ever see those cartoons by Gary Larson?) I truly appreciate the fact that you’ve been checking out my photos, did you get to the parrots? Hmm the silver car again, I think someone is in love and feel very free to use it if you want to load it up with chickens btw. A hit and run artist eh? Now I see why your art is so catchy and fresh. You are welcome and I for one look forward to a long blogging friendship.
      Laurie.

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  5. Lorraine Marie Reguly

    What a light and breezy voice you have in this poem, Laurie! 🙂 It made me smile. I enjoyed it!

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    Reply
    1. laurie27wsmith Post author

      You’re welcome Melanie. Yeah it does sound dirty, oh so conspiratorial, all those chickens, oh dear. Yes the words flowed when I thought about Spring Chicken, all that artistic inspiration. 🙂

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