The Hen House

19 Dec

The Hen House

By L. Stewart Marsden


They prattled, rattled, clucked and parried –

Yet none were bedded, none were married;

And all their eggs, collected daily,

Served to kings and queens and more

On silvered platters, gaily garnered;

Sprigged with parsley, tarragon;

Yet none increased their nest nor home,

Were doomed to scratch and peck and roam

In dusty yards with fenced-in views

Until their necks were cut clean through

For Sunday’s after-worship dinner.


Copyright © by Lawrence S. Marsden, 19 December, 2014

3 Responses to “The Hen House”

  1. InfiniteZip December 19, 2014 at 5:39 am #

    Loooovve fresh eggs….and what a cruel twist of truth.

  2. skipmars December 20, 2014 at 11:11 am #

    Someone suggested this was analogous to the French or Russian revolutions. I hadn’t that in mind, but it’s amazing how well that fits. 🙂

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