Once upon an evening bright, while I waited for the night,
To rest then from a day of labor that had made my muscles sore.
Sitting there and quietly napping, was awakened by a tapping,
Or was it more like a rapping, rapping at my big barn door?
“A friend or neighbor,” I muttered, “tapping at my big barn door~
Only this, or was it more? ”

Through the barn door latch hole peering, long I stood there quietly fearing,
Daring, thinking thoughts of horror, like I’d never thought before;
But the silence overbearing, became soon a test of daring.
An eerie word that showed such caring was the whispered word, “Fedore?”
Then I queried, and an echo murmured back the word, “Fedore!”
Merely this, and nothing more!

Then I opened the barn window, when with angry innuendo,
In there stepped an angry chicken, madder than I’d seen before;
Not the least intimidated, never once she hesitated;
But with anger understated, perched above my big barn door.
Perched upon a Gulf Oil sign just above my big barn door~
Perched and sat and nothing more.

But the chicken, sitting badly, on the sign was clucking sadly;
Clucked one tune, as if her soul in that cluck she did outpour.
Nothing further then she cackled, every feather then she hackled.
Then my tongue became unshackled, “You’ve had friends who’ve gone before.
And tomorrow you’ll believe me, things will be better than before.”
Then she cackled, “Nevermore.”

“One last cluck and you’re departing, bird or fiend! You’d best be starting~
Get thee back to your hen house and forget about Fedore!
Leave no chicken feather token of the sadness you have spoken!
Leave my window pane unbroken!, quit the sign above my door!
Or I’ll have you stay for dumplings, and I’ll quickly lock the door!”
Clucked the chicken, “Nevermore.”

And the chicken, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the antique Gulf Oil sign, just above my big barn door;
And the iron cook pot is steaming, such delicious odors streaming
While the chicken sits there dreaming of a rooster named Fedore:
By the smell of chicken dumplings, soon I too will love Fedore!
He’ll be crowing~nevermore!

*With apologies to Mr. Poe