THE FAST LANE

He'd lived life in the fast lane
Since he was a little pup,
And his mama'd tried to warn him
Not to overfill his cup.

But he thought he was much smarter
Than his pal's who'd been K.O.'ed.
Til an eighteen wheeler caught him
In the middle of the road.

He lay sadly in the highway
When the painting crew came by
And the yellow streak he now wears
Is enough to mortify.

CHICKENS

Chickens rarely comment on the weather -
They take the seasons simply as they come.
When cold winds blow, they preen and fluff each feather
And when it's hot they stay out of the sun.

In summertime they hunt and peck for insects,
And in the winter eat the Co-Op grain.
The rooster brags to all he is the fair sex,
But the hens just think his crowing is a pain.

It's hard to know for sure what they are thinking,
The words they use are limited to clucks.
But when a hen is caring for her offspring,
She's given a wide berth by geese and ducks.

But just between us chickens I've a notion
That though you may not hear the hens complain,
They plan to start a barnyard revolution
'Cause the rooster won't get off the weather vane.

CHIGGERS

I wish I were a chigger
For just one summer's day
With biting power much greater
Than my chums.

Then I would turn the tables
And there would be "heck" to pay -
I'd bite those blasted insects
On their "bums."