I am in that place I can rant of my lot Wondering how I got such a twisted plot If only the sky can be blue all the time And both morning glories and bluebells rise the very same time. When the puffed up, Swaggering cock crows proud and gay When won't the squaking hen saddled with a brood of chicks be grey Don't you think she has earned the right to cackle Bowed down as she is from the rock's straddle Her hope, yellow feathered on fragile stilts A couple of decades bridging between lift or wilt A hope quite unfounded as you reap what you sow Better some hope though unfounded than just salt and woe When hope Kisses faith a new seed is sown With back-breaking labor and rags where new clothes are sewn Please hold the grim reaper at bay not to strike so soon For if he comes before the glorious decade, the sun has set at noon.

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