A poem about roosters crowing.
|The rooster crows in the morning,
That just seems the normal thing,
Yet really, the time does not matter,
He may crow till you're a Mad Hatter,
He crows to greet the dawn,
He'll crow of danger to warn,
A crow when an egg is laid,
Also crows when noise is made,
He'll crow if he sees light,
It's done not out of spite.
He talks aloud to another,
A rooster of another feather.
Their noise can be quite loud,
Of this he can be quite proud.
Their voice is needed to travel,
They listen to anothers tale unravel.
No matter if they are miles apart,
A conversation they will take part.
The one with the loudest voice,
Is the master of choice.
In this odd world of poultry,
It's just elementary.
So when you hear the rooster crow,
There is something he wants all to know.