Originally written December 1, 2013
Chicken Coop Chatter©
When all through the flock, not a creature was stirring, just a soft, bawk bawk bawk.
The feed bags were hung from the perches with care, in hopes that St.Chickolas would soon be there.
The chicks were nestled all snug in their hay, while visions of cranberries and apples were hoped for someday.
I in my long johns and Tess on my lap , Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out in the barnyard, arose such a clatter, Tess yipped at me to see what was the matter.
We rushed to the window, tore off plastic wrap, and peered through the crack.
The moon shown on the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day objects of what, I don't know.
When, what to my sleepy eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny chickeneer.
With a little old driver, so flighty and quick,
I knew that moment, it must be St. Chick.
More rapid than eagles his fowlers they came,
And he Cockled and Doodled and called them by name!
Now Dasher now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the coop, to the top of the trees,
Now fly away, fly away, fly away and be free.
As downy feathers that before the wild pillow fight they fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the coop top the fowlers they flew,
With the sleigh full of treats and St. Chickolas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the coop roof
The scratching and clawing of each little foot.
As I drew in my head and was turning around;
Down the stove pipe St. Chckolas came with a bound.
He was dressed in fine feathers, from his head to his foot,
And those feathers were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A feed bag of treats he had flung under his wing
and he looked like a turkey, just opening that thing.
His eyes, how they twinkled, his red comb how merry!
His muffs were like roses, his beak held a cherry
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And Ameraucana beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stem of the cherry he held tight in his beak,
and hackles encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he cockled, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bird,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of what I heard.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his tail,
Soon gave me to know this was not just the mail.
A bawk he did not make, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the feed bags, then turned with a jerk,
Then laying his wing tip aside his broad beak,
and giving a nod, up the stove pipe he tweaked
He flew to his sleigh, to his team gave a doodle,
And away they all flew like the loose fur on a poodle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight;
"Cockadoodle Chickmas to all, and to all a good-flight!!"
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