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A strutting prideful fellow rules the yard;
His plumage flared with green and red and gold.
He strolls among the stable straw on guard,
His flock of hens protected and controlled.
They crouch submissive as he passes by,
His punk red comb a bobbing on his head.
Down his sharp beak he casts a beady eye,
To check if there are any to be bred.
His manly duties done he then proceeds
To wander over to the feeding trough.
He eats his fill of oats and other seeds,
While others step aside or just fly off.
Full chest thrust out, he rises on tip-toe
To crow his splendour for the world to know.

Roger was a rooster, every day he’d greet the sun,
Morning pastime: choosing chicks with which to have some fun;
Buxom little Bantams, and the Leghorns – Oh, my word!
White and plump with meaty rump to tantalize a bird.

Australorps his favorite, he’d let out a meaty growl,
Picturing these chickens in positions fully fowl;
Frizzles freaked him out, great drumsticks made them good in bed,
New Hampshires were Heaven and he loved Rhode Island Red.

Siren Silkies, skin so soft, he savored them like wine,
Sussexes would bat their eyes, an egg production line!
Red and white Anconas, some old boilers, Plymouth Rock,
All were part of randy Roger’s feathered female flock.

Strutting round the fowl yard, Roger’s life was rich and full,
All around him happy hens, and pullets he could pull!
Every hen his favorite, he was loving, lusty, lewd,
Poultry porn was normal life, and no-one thought it crude.

Every Sunday one would go, a tragic part of life,
All the hens would cower when they saw the farmer’s wife;
Picking out the weekly roast, then to the chopping block,
Capons fear one single sound: a sharp axe going “thwock!”

Roger was a realist though, his tongue stayed in his head,
Never questioned who should go or who should stay instead;
Capon capers, what a life! perpetual bill and coo,
Roger had the magic password: Cock a doodle doo!

Bottom line is.....Hope he finds a forever loving home.
I think i would prefer a Cockeral just,COCKLE DOODLE DOO in the morning,Rather than a dog barking day and night for no reason.

Nice poems sunnyside. I know another about a cock.
The boy stood on the burning deck........

In uganda last year and at 5am every morning it was the ruddy immam yelling allah akhbar for the morning call to prayer.