'Twas the night before Christmas,
and the weather was swell.
Not a creature was stirring,
for they had all be sent to hell.
But bumblebees were buzzing,
and the dandelions were blooming.
Nary a sting on my beak, nor a bite on my bottom,
could keep me from singing my song.
Like Mariann from Brooklyn says,
A woman so woke she needs a nap.
Bah Humbug!, they said,
the climate is changing.
My comb is sticking up,
and my wardrobe needs re-arranging.
No more winter coats or beanies,
Senator Sanders told me,
Upon his visit to my barn,
Told from a stump that was surely leaning.
Too much, too much,
Memes from all directions.
The color of the dress,
and a shark that needed correction.
This rooster is proud, you may say
His nest is rich with presents and gifts.
Monica and Bennington over for supper,
Feasting on pheasant and chips.
Cannibalism, you say?
No! I cast a stone at you with my claw,
and I spurn you with my spur,
for Christmas is the time to forget,
and remember only the law of nature,
that it is to eat or be eaten,
and beat into submission,
by those cast asunder
by nefarious traditions.
—Follow Rooster Quibbits on Twitter: @RoosterQuibbits