The Little Chick Had To Fly

I’m a little yellow chick,

Who once worked alongside,

The Easter Rabbit,

I helped him decide,

What to put in all the baskets,

I really tried,

But it did not suit me,

So I took a ride.

 

I hopped a train,

And got off,

At its tenth stop,

Where I ran into a cop,

Holding up a blue umbrella,

‘Cuz it was pouring down rain.

 

Being a chick,

From a Fairyland,

I could read,

So I found a sign,

Telling me I was in the Big Apple,

How divine!

 

I took up a residence,

In Central Park,

Where I made friends with a frog,

Who hangs out,

With a loud crowd,

We sometimes like to trip,

People out for a jog,

Or startle a dog,

And make him bark.

 

One night while out,

On the town,

I got an idea,

Out of the blue,

And on each chicken leg,

I got a tattoo,

One is a lion,

The other is a lamb,

Man I’m loving the city,

And my legs so pretty!

 

I became very fond,

Of the hustle and bustle,

And the worldly ways,

But I still kept Easter,

In my heart of hearts,

Though I made room too,

For other things to have a part.

 

I eventually built up my place,

Into a regular chicken mansion,

That was very handsome,

Full of furniture and such,

Of the latest fashions.

 

Now I realized I had,

Too much time on my hands,

So I took a job,

At a hotdog stand,

Where I heard lots of music,

And got interested,

In joining a band.

 

So my frog friend,

And the rest of our circle,

Got ourselves up our own band,

We played Christmas music,

And our frontman was a turtle,

Oh how this would make,

Those Easterland Creatures lose it!

 

The years flew by,

Full of fun and fortune,

’til by and by,

I was feeling my age,

And decided to,

Live life with more caution.

 

That was so many years ago now,

A quarter – century,

To be exact,

That time stuffing baskets,

Is just a distant memory,

Now I work in a factory,

Machining parts for weaponry.

 

I still go back for Easter,

If I didn’t,

Dear old Mr. Rabbit,

Would have my keister,

I can now appreciate these weeks,

I spend there,

We have a great parade,

Before delivering all the baskets,

Then come home to a smashing party,

And spend hours eating,

And dancing to delightful beats.

 

But fun as it is,

I’m satisfied,

That I spread my wings,

I’ll never regret,

Doing my own things,

I’m always happiest when I’m again,

At my own dreamy den.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Think Before You Speak

Earl was an eccentric little rabbit,

About which,

Everyone made quite a racket,

He was as ordinary as you please,

Really a lovely fellow,

But there was always talk about,

Him wearing a long black jacket,

And his strange love for eating jello.

 

Some squirrels say his jacket,

Is to aide him in black magic,

He’s not normal,

And he must be up to tricks,

But the otters believe,

It’s just his blameless lucky charm,

And fits naturally to him,

As much as his own arm.

 

The rest of them,

All have their own view too,

So I feel I ought,

To clear things up with you:

He’s a fuckin gem!

 

His many weird habits,

Make him unlike the other rabbits,

Like when he ventures out of the woods,

To stock up on people goods.

 

While he is gone,

Others quake with fear,

As their minds produce some crazy thoughts,

Of things he may be getting up to,

He just buys innocent things,

Like spinach and whiskey,

And lugs them back,

In a big black sack,

But he keeps his doings on the down-low,

So they get freaked out,

By what they don’t know.

 

He’s quite the early bird,

Each morning he happily wakes,

Then after putting the coffee on,

Heads outside,

Where he does a wild dance,

And the onlooking deer deem him absurd,

As they look on in a trance.

 

It’s not totally that tragic though,

See these deer don’t know,

He’s saying some words,

That encourage their meadow grasses to grow.

 

He won’t partake of his coffee,

Without first reciting a good-luck phrase,

That his mother used to hope,

Would be just a phase,

As it made her hair raise.

 

I’ll give you that,

Yes this could be a tad odd,

But it has done things amazing,

Like preventing a carelessly tossed match,

From setting their whole wood ablaze.

 

He grows alfalfa and carrots,

On all sides of his cottage,

And enjoys watching their progress,

During an evening sit,

On his wrap-around terrace.

 

It’s said he does strange things,

While out there each evening,

The Old Owl is always watching,

And says supposedly his lips move,

But put forth no sound,

And his crazy hand motions,

Have been told of for miles around.

 

In reality he’s just humming,

Relaxing himself with a merry tune,

While tapping his arm chair,

With his ice cream spoon.

 

Today he outwitted a tiger,

And stopped him from terrorizing a spider,

The truth’s still being sorted out,

Of just how that came about.

 

Orlando the Owl swears,

That last evening on his porch,

He saw him do a dance,

While swinging ’round a torch,

So it must have been a spell,

How else,

He asks,

Could he have made a tiger fell?

 

Truth be told,

If he could have done such a thing,

He’d rather use such excessive powers,

To fill his pockets full of gold.

 

Sunday is his fun day out,

One week he’ll go here,

And meet an old school peer,

For a game of solitaire,

Another week he may go there,

In search of a new cologne,

To spray upon his hair.

 

Sandra the Sparrow speculates,

That he does evil on these dates,

Why else,

She says,

Would he wander out so far,

Without taking his flashy car?

But he is not at all about Hell,

She does not know what it is she tells.

 

Here’s the truth:

He’s out there having fun,

Dodging busy noses,

As they’re trying to find out,

Everything under the blazing sun,

That he’s ever done.

 

Do you maybe have an Earl,

Somewhere near to where you are?

Are you maybe being less than fair,

While you sit there judging,

From your high and mighty chair?

 

 

 

 

 

That Crazy Bunny

They call me Easter Rabbit,

And I’m a creature of habit,

I’m around for just a day,

But when I’m gone,

I haven’t really gone away.

 

Where I go,

It is a secret,

But know it’s a happy jolly place,

And when I reappear next year,

Be assured I’ll have made pretty eggs,

To fill each and every basket.

 

Me and the other bunnies,

Keep production flowing all year long,

At the end of a long day,

We tell each other funnies,

While passing around a bong.

 

To quell your curiosity,

About our residence,

It’s an operation and a home,

Kind of like the North Pole,

Except instead of Christmas,

We’ve got Easter in our souls.

 

Though we have similarities,

To Santa and the Elves,

Our businesses have differences,

That reflect our holiday preferences.

 

Carrot cake is baked in place of cookies,

We manufacture eggs instead of toys,

And though Santa’s Deer,

Are some great boys,

To teleport,

Is more my sort.

 

I’m not nearly as picky as Mr. Claus,

Whether you were naughty or nice,

If you celebrate Easter,

I’ll deliver you a basket,

With my own paws.

 

You’d think after five hundred years,

I’d be too tired to wiggle my ears,

And zoom from place to place,

On that one day out of every three-sixty-five,

It seems the whole world,

Wants to see my face,

But I never feel frazzled,

I’m happy to keep up this pace,

As long as the Earth whirls ’round.