The Chooks of Wrath
Down on the ranch,
chickens peck around the yard.
Granpappy Joe rocks on the porch
and watches the breeze blow.
Cousin Cindy from over the county line
calls by, and throws grits to the chickens
who run around in circles squawking.
Granpappy sits and nods
as Cousin Cindy shoots the breeze
and drifts away in a pleasant reverie
to her sweet chattering.
The sound of semi-automatic fire
echoes down the smoky valley.
Grandpappy sways to his feet
and waves a fist in the general direction.
Bring me my muskatoon Kamala!
Kamala comes out from the dim parlour.
Land sakes, Joe! Your days of feudin’
with the rednecks are well over.
Kamala brings Granpappy cool lemonade
from the parlour, and Granpappy says
who was that nice young Christian lady
who came a-visiting?
But Kamala just says hush now Granpappy,
and hands him a cool lemonade
as darkness settles on the ranch.