Oh ~woe~ is me,

Poor ~little red hen~ with the grain that you found,

Nobody will help you put that seed in the ground.

 

Your feathers are bristled as you squawk and we gawk,

You think you’re doing us a favor.

 

Well guess what ~little red~,

You wanna make some bread?

By all means, go ahead!

 

But the whining and the pining just for a hand,

Is something we animals really can’t stand.

 

You’ve watched us all week put in hard work:

The horse, she’s been plowing,

The dog, he’s been herding,

The cow, ME, I’ve been milking.

While YOU sat on your throne of eggs with a smirk.

 

And now that the bread’s made,

You’re throwing some shade,

At those of us taking a break.

 

Next time you want help, I have an idea!

Who’s that guy who does nothing all day but saunters around the farm harassing all the hens and whose only job is to scream as loudly and annoyingly as he possibly can when the sun com—Oh right!

 

--Ask that cock of a husband!