Hauling Chickens

Hauling Chickens

Me and Earl was hauling chickens,
On a flatbed,
Out of Wiggins,
We just climbed seven miles of hill,
Called Wolf Creek Pass,
Up on the great divide.
I says to Earl,
"We better get this rig moving."
So Earl,
He jabs err into fifth gear,
And five hundred head,
Of Road Island Reds come alive,
Man what a ride,
We went down, and around a corner,
There's a tunnel, the sign says,
Clearance to the twelve foot line,
Me and Earl,
Had them chickens stacked,
To thirteen-nine,
Yes sir, we took that top row of chickens off,
Slicker than scum off a Louisiana swamp,
We went down and around,
Down and around,
The lines on the road, just looked like dots,
The telephone poles looked like a picket fence,
The hairpin turns looked like,
A can full of fishing worms.
I says to Earl,
"You better slow down real soon,
Or,
They're going to be picking us up,
With a stick and a spoon."
So, Earl he steps on the brake,
And it was sort of like stepping on a plum,
The pedal went clean to the floor,
And stayed there.
Earl says, "Hang on cousin."
The sound of the wheels,
Were just a buzzen,
Earl was working the steering wheel,
For all his worth,
Them Road Island Reds began to squeal,
The eighteen gear,
Mac truck,
Went faster and faster,
Earl closes his eyes and says, "Oh dear!"
As we bashed into the side of a feed store,
In downtown Pegosis Springs,
What luck!

© Jim Smart

The Lead Goat Veered Off

by Neil Anderson

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Partners in Grime

by Neil Anderson

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