Of course it is my hens,
Who have my thinking in rhymes again.
I really didn't know,
That they hate to get their feet wet, so I have to shovel snow.
They just stand under their coop,
While I slip around in the mud and the poop.
And wait 'til I shovel them a path to the sunshine,
Gee, I sure wish I was a chicken, that would be livin' FINE!