Poem -

THE FINAL CLUCK

Every morning at eight she loves to cluck 
Enough to frighten any passing dog or duck
Saves on buying an alarm clock that is for sure 
Always on time and not a minute or second more 

My clucking hen likes it when I take her meal
She lays some lovely eggs as part of the deal 
For the rest of the day she just struts around 
Let's me know she's there with her clucking sound 

To friends and neighbours we call her Billy 
To strangers passing by must think us silly
One day in December though disaster struck 
Billy gave out I'm afraid her final and lasting cluck

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