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now hold--i say, hold on now. hawk or no hawk, it ain't right for that boy to go terrorizin' older folks like that
shootin' them with arrows, callin' himself big chickenhawk engine and dancin' with his feathered head-piece like some crazy mohawkin
Henery's silly as Sylvester Puddy Tat, and as senseless as that old crow, Jim
so what if his kind hunts and eats what we are--he's still a boy!
i tell him, "you can't--i say, can't go makin' more noise than a couple of skeletons throwin' a fit on a tin roof, sonny
"and it ain't--i say, ain't smart to go round bitin' folks bigger than you that's how you get hurt"
Miss Prissy tell me all the time to let the boy be; that at his age he's practically harmless
and i always tell my lammy pie there's a whole--i say, whole 'lotta eggs with the crazy notion that they're too fresh for they own yolk
at his age, he need--i say, need to learn to mind us better, honey bun and stop all this nonsense 'bout survival of the fittest and all these other theories of hatred
Barnyard Dawg ain't--i say, ain't much better for yokin' the boy along with his mischief. tellin him new ways to trap me
that's why i waited 'til he was sleepin' to tell sonny he been lied to for so long and that all--i say, all this time, i've been a horse
i point to that silly dawg-- all smiles as he probably dreams up new ways of torturing me
there--i say, there's your chicken, boy. all four legs. go on over and taste him, sonny. i'm sure you'll like it.
-----sig starts here----- interested in buying my chapbook, "Transfer"? Just visit http://myspace.com/alanking81
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"I used to walk through the valley like Psalms 27" --
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