My Dearest Chicken

My dearest chicken, this may be cliche
But you make me feel things that no man can
While I count all the eggs that you lay
I can’t help but think of when you began

Your clucks and cuckoos make me want to prance
Prance with the fact that you are just for me
The money your eggs make brings me to dance
Dance knowing that I can pay every fee

When all your eggs have been sold at the shop
I skip back home with sacks and sacks of bills
But before I get home, make a quick stop
Stop at the diner to get food that fills

My dearest chicken, oh god through which gape
Through which small hole did you get to escape?