When I was harless child,

I used to pursue a hen around the field.

And often I felt when it's startled,

Because its feathers looked me blind.


I love to draw its plump body

With its frilly tutu, like a bridal

Wich have from foot to foot, rascal,

To pick at a creepy-crawly.


At mornings, when it moved his rump,

I look behond his dark tillbox

To discover a treasure box

Wich I will take a running jump.

This poem reminds me when I was 8 with 3 cats, 1 fat rabbit and my 3 hens wich called "Petit Lu", "Houpette" and my favorite, "Igor" ! ;)