Cracked Chicken (Christmas) Carols and Poems

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´Twas the Night before Chickmas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Adapted by WoDia from:
´Twas the Night Before Christmas
by Clement Clarke Moore (1823)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Twas the night before Chickmas, when all through the coop,

not a creature was stirring, not even a goose.

Empty treat holders were hanging with care,

in hopes that St. Chickolas soon would be there.

Happy chicks were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of mealworms danced in their heads.

With the broodies in nests, and I snuggled near,

we had just settled our brains for the long winter's drear.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my roost to see what was the matter!

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
perched on the windowsill, my heart beating fast!

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

gave the lustre of midday to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,

but a miniature sleigh and eight honking geese!

With a little fluffy driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Chick!

More rapid than mergansers, his coursers they came, 

and he clucked and he crowed and he called them by name:


"Now Splasher! Now Gander!

Now, Puddles and Wingson!

On, Pintail! On, Gadwall!
 On, Beaker and Widgeon! 

To the top of the run!
 To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! 
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild turkeys fly,

when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.


So up to the coop-top the coursers they flew,

with the sleigh full of treats, and St. Chickolas too!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the wood
the tapping and flopping of each flappy foot.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,
 through the air vent St. Chickolas came with a bound!

He had shiny red feathers, from his head to his tail, but his wings were all tarnished with dirt and straw bale.

A bundle of treats he had flung on his back,
 and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled! His face, how floofy! 
His cheeks were like cotton balls, his comb sort of goofy.

His little yellow beak was drawn up in a smile, and the beard on his chin was pure white and all wild.

The stump of a corncob he held tight in his beak,
 and his breath in the crisp air was shaped like a wreath.

He had a broad fluffy face and a little round belly,
 that shook when he clucked, like a bowl full of melon.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bird,
 and I cackled when I saw him, despite my own girth.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
 soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He clucked not a word, but went straight to his work, placing toys and treats, then he turned with a jerk.

And laying his wing aside of his beak,
 and giving a nod, out the air vent he streaked!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a crow,
 and away they all flew through the fresh falling snow.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Chickmas to all, and to all a good flight!"
 
WoDia said:
´Twas the Night before Chickmas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Adapted by WoDia from:
´Twas the Night Before Christmas
by Clement Clarke Moore (1823)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Twas the night before Chickmas, when all through the coop,

not a creature was stirring, not even a goose.

Empty treat holders were hanging with care,

in hopes that St. Chickolas soon would be there.

Happy chicks were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of mealworms danced in their heads.

With the broodies in nests, and I snuggled near,

we had just settled our brains for the long winter's drear.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my roost to see what was the matter!

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
perched on the windowsill, my heart beating fast!

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

gave the lustre of midday to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,

but a miniature sleigh and eight honking geese!

With a little fluffy driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Chick!

More rapid than mergansers, his coursers they came, 

and he clucked and he crowed and he called them by name:


"Now Splasher! Now Gander!

Now, Puddles and Wingson!

On, Pintail! On, Gadwall!
 On, Beaker and Widgeon! 

To the top of the run!
 To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! 
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild turkeys fly,

when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.


So up to the coop-top the coursers they flew,

with the sleigh full of treats, and St. Chickolas too!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the wood
the tapping and flopping of each flappy foot.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,
 through the air vent St. Chickolas came with a bound!

He had shiny red feathers, from his head to his tail, but his wings were all tarnished with dirt and straw bale.

A bundle of treats he had flung on his back,
 and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled! His face, how floofy! 
His cheeks were like cotton balls, his comb sort of goofy.

His little yellow beak was drawn up in a smile, and the beard on his chin was pure white and all wild.

The stump of a corncob he held tight in his beak,
 and his breath in the crisp air was shaped like a wreath.

He had a broad fluffy face and a little round belly,
 that shook when he clucked, like a bowl full of melon.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bird,
 and I cackled when I saw him, despite my own girth.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
 soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He clucked not a word, but went straight to his work, placing toys and treats, then he turned with a jerk.

And laying his wing aside of his beak,
 and giving a nod, out the air vent he streaked!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a crow,
 and away they all flew through the fresh falling snow.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Chickmas to all, and to all a good flight!"
Click to expand...
That is AMAZING! Excellent poetry, I'm going to read this to the eggies who are due to hatch tomorrow for egg-spiration!
 
WoDia said:
´Twas the Night before Chickmas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Adapted by WoDia from:
´Twas the Night Before Christmas
by Clement Clarke Moore (1823)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Twas the night before Chickmas, when all through the coop,

not a creature was stirring, not even a goose.

Empty treat holders were hanging with care,

in hopes that St. Chickolas soon would be there.

Happy chicks were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of mealworms danced in their heads.

With the broodies in nests, and I snuggled near,

we had just settled our brains for the long winter's drear.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my roost to see what was the matter!

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
perched on the windowsill, my heart beating fast!

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

gave the lustre of midday to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,

but a miniature sleigh and eight honking geese!

With a little fluffy driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Chick!

More rapid than mergansers, his coursers they came, 

and he clucked and he crowed and he called them by name:


"Now Splasher! Now Gander!

Now, Puddles and Wingson!

On, Pintail! On, Gadwall!
 On, Beaker and Widgeon! 

To the top of the run!
 To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! 
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild turkeys fly,

when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.


So up to the coop-top the coursers they flew,

with the sleigh full of treats, and St. Chickolas too!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the wood
the tapping and flopping of each flappy foot.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,
 through the air vent St. Chickolas came with a bound!

He had shiny red feathers, from his head to his tail, but his wings were all tarnished with dirt and straw bale.

A bundle of treats he had flung on his back,
 and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled! His face, how floofy! 
His cheeks were like cotton balls, his comb sort of goofy.

His little yellow beak was drawn up in a smile, and the beard on his chin was pure white and all wild.

The stump of a corncob he held tight in his beak,
 and his breath in the crisp air was shaped like a wreath.

He had a broad fluffy face and a little round belly,
 that shook when he clucked, like a bowl full of melon.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bird,
 and I cackled when I saw him, despite my own girth.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
 soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He clucked not a word, but went straight to his work, placing toys and treats, then he turned with a jerk.

And laying his wing aside of his beak,
 and giving a nod, out the air vent he streaked!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a crow,
 and away they all flew through the fresh falling snow.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Chickmas to all, and to all a good flight!"
Click to expand...
:clap Fantastic!!! Love it! 🥰
 
WoDia said:
´Twas the Night before Chickmas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Adapted by WoDia from:
´Twas the Night Before Christmas
by Clement Clarke Moore (1823)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Twas the night before Chickmas, when all through the coop,

not a creature was stirring, not even a goose.

Empty treat holders were hanging with care,

in hopes that St. Chickolas soon would be there.

Happy chicks were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of mealworms danced in their heads.

With the broodies in nests, and I snuggled near,

we had just settled our brains for the long winter's drear.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my roost to see what was the matter!

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
perched on the windowsill, my heart beating fast!

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

gave the lustre of midday to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,

but a miniature sleigh and eight honking geese!

With a little fluffy driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Chick!

More rapid than mergansers, his coursers they came, 

and he clucked and he crowed and he called them by name:


"Now Splasher! Now Gander!

Now, Puddles and Wingson!

On, Pintail! On, Gadwall!
 On, Beaker and Widgeon! 

To the top of the run!
 To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! 
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild turkeys fly,

when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.


So up to the coop-top the coursers they flew,

with the sleigh full of treats, and St. Chickolas too!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the wood
the tapping and flopping of each flappy foot.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,
 through the air vent St. Chickolas came with a bound!

He had shiny red feathers, from his head to his tail, but his wings were all tarnished with dirt and straw bale.

A bundle of treats he had flung on his back,
 and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled! His face, how floofy! 
His cheeks were like cotton balls, his comb sort of goofy.

His little yellow beak was drawn up in a smile, and the beard on his chin was pure white and all wild.

The stump of a corncob he held tight in his beak,
 and his breath in the crisp air was shaped like a wreath.

He had a broad fluffy face and a little round belly,
 that shook when he clucked, like a bowl full of melon.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bird,
 and I cackled when I saw him, despite my own girth.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
 soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He clucked not a word, but went straight to his work, placing toys and treats, then he turned with a jerk.

And laying his wing aside of his beak,
 and giving a nod, out the air vent he streaked!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a crow,
 and away they all flew through the fresh falling snow.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Chickmas to all, and to all a good flight!"
Click to expand...
Fabulous, I love it! ❤
 

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