Whenceforth kind Chickabun dost proclaim,
Thy Chicken Plantation is not a game
Sir Edmond Pleabus the III, Esquire
Braved through water, wind and fire
Volleyed thunder, ferried fjord
All hailed him in the year of our Lord
Broke through fences, burned down peasants
Slaughtered dragons, pissed on pheasants
To save the Chickens from plantations
Whilst crippling their masters' evil nations
And carried kind Chickabun far and wide
Across the seas, to her bride
A Tupperware bowl in Newport Beach
For which a Deen Bean mouth dost beseech
And such is the mouth of a hungry man
Which grew so tired of Raisin Bran
Tomatoes, beans, all treasures included
Not one cupboard left unlooted
A happy meal of Chickadeal and joyful song,
Chickabun won approval of Ding Dong
No more plantations, No more travesty
Just deals for our meals, such glorious majesty
Chicken Basketry
(The art of making Baskets from Chicken Raquets) Jackets.
Whackits.
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