One day the gate was left opened,
and the old rooster decided to flee.
For the very first time in his life,
he knew what it meant to be free.
He could go any where he wanted,
no old hen was holding him back;
explore lands beyond the barnyard,
the very depths of his soul, in fact.
For years he searched for answers,
there’s so much he longed to know:
what was being a rooster all about,
what really put oomph in his crow.
Surprise! He favored young cocks;
he truly never loved old hens at all.
Clucking hens destroyed his libido;
youthful crowing made it stand tall.
Soon came along a young rooster,
wanting to marry and settle down.
At first, life together was heaven,
but then began turning around.
Spunky crows of a young rooster,
became cluckitty-clucks of a hen.
“Be still. Go to sleep. Just roll over.
Stop it now. I’ve a headache again.”
All he was mounting was tension;
his very roosterhood was at stake.
Night after night: no satisfaction.
How much of this could he take?
Once a rooster, always a rooster:
born to jump it, hump it, and crow.
Be it with old hen or young rooster,
he’s sick and tired of being told no.
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