The Rooster and The Hen

A Depression Era Poem

The Rooster and The Hen

Said the Little Red Rooster, "Believe me things are tough!"

Seems the worms are getting scarcer and I cannot find enough,

What's become of all those fat ones? It's a mystery to me.

There were thousands through that rainy spell,

But now, where can they be?"

But the Old Black Hen who heard him didn't grumble or complain,

She had lived through lots of dry spells;

She had lived through floods of rain.

She picked a new and undug spot, The ground was hard and firm,

"I must go to the worms," she said. "The worms won't come to me."

The Rooster vainly spent his day,

Through habit, by the ways

Where fat round worms had passed in squads back in the rainy days.

When nightfall found him supperless, he growled in accents rough,

"I'm hungry as a fowl can be, conditions sure are tough."

But the Old Black Hen hopped to her perch

And dropped her eyes to sleep

And murmured in a drowsy tone, "Young man, hear this and weep.

I'm full of worms and happy

For I've eaten like a pig.

The worms were there as always

But, boy I had to dig!"