Consultation with a Chicken

[Daphne]

I have never consulted a chicken,
About its preferred company,
Once it’s dead and plucked and cooked,
And on a plate in front of me.

Would it like some carrots,
And the other things in stew,
Or roasties, peas and Paxo,
In a creamy white wine jus?

How would it like to be served,
Jointed, carved or whole?
(Spatchcocked is just for the kinky,
And for the staid there’s casserole.)

What would it like to be called,
As it’s placed in front of me,
Fajitas, curry, Kiev,
Or something vile like KFC?

Would it like to be cooked,
With its skin and bones still there,
Its giblets in the gravy,
Or would it really care?

What about its carcass,
Picked and naked in the tin,
Could I boil it up for stock,
Or to a chicken is that a sin?

I would never consult a chicken,
About its preferred company,
Because all it would do is cluck,
And that seems ungrateful to me.

[alex]

This is a very sad poem (for the chicken) but I enjoyed reading it. I used to like KFC, but now I am obese, I can't eat it anymore. So I eat chicken breast and salad now. Not as tasty as KFC, but a lot healthier I believe. I also like Gregg's chicken pasties and their steak bakes.

[Daphne]

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