On the table the old chicken sat
Clucking pecking
Wings flappin
Feather preened and full

Oh she was a plump old bird
Just ready for the roasting dish
One big problem
The dinners face

Who ws going to do the deadly deed
Volunters
Did did go week in the kness the very thought they tremble they think who was to do the deathlly deed

In walks the chef you catch I'll ring her bloody neck
With a sigh of relief they gather to catch the old bird with a squack feather flappling mmm that darn cat just ate are bird