A Farmer With 500 Hens

[Boon Mee]

A farmer has about 500 hens, but no rooster and wants chicks. He goes down the road to the next farmer and asks if he has a rooster that he would sell. The other farmer says, "Yep, I've got this great rooster named Kenny. He'll service every chicken you got - no problem."

Kenny the rooster cost the farmer $3,000, but the farmer decides he'd be worth it, so he buys Kenny. The farmer takes Kenny home and sets him down in the barnyard and gives the rooster a pep talk.

"I want you to pace your self now. You've got a lot of chickens to service here and you cost me a lot of money. I'll need you to do a good job, so take your time and have some fun." The farmer points toward the hen house and Kenny takes off like a shot.

WHAM! Kenny nails every hen in the hen house, the farmer is shocked. Then the farmer hears a commotion in the duck pen and, sure enough, Kenny is in there.

Later the farmer sees Kenny after a flock of geese down by the lake. Once again - WHAM! He gets all the geese. By sunset he sees Kenny out in the fields chasing quail and pheasants.

The farmer is distraught and worried that his expensive rooster won't even last 24 hours. Sure enough, the farmer wakes up the next morning to find Kenny on his back out in the middle of the yard, mouth open, tongue hanging out and both feet sticking straight up in the air with buzzards circling overhead.

The farmer, saddened by the loss of such a colorful and expensive animal, shakes his head and says, "Kenny, I told you to take your time, now look at what you've done to yourself !"

Kenny opens one eye, nods toward the buzzards circling in the sky and says, "Shhh..... they're getting closer."

[jayenram]

The lyrics to 30 year old Jake Thackray song:

The Bantam Cock - Jake Thackray (1972)

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He was a fine upstanding bantam cock

So brisk and stiff and spry

With a springy step and a jaunty plume

And a purposeful look in his eye

In his little black laughing eye there was...

I took him to the coop and introduced him to

Me seventeen wild eyed hens

He upped and he tupped as a hero tups

He bowed to them all and then

He upped and he tupped 'em all again...

And then upon the peace of me ducks and me geese

He rudely did intrude

With a glazed eye and open mouth

They bore him with fortitude

And a little bit of gratitude...

He jumped me giggling guinea fowl

He thrust his attentions upon

Me twenty hysterical turkeys and

A visiting migrant swan

And the bantam thundered on...

He ravaged me fan tailed pigeon and

Me lily white columbine

And as I was locking up me budgerigar

He jumped me parrot from behind

Who was sitting on me shoulder at the time...

Then all of a sudden with a gasp and a wheeze

He clasped his wings to his head

Lay flat on the ground with his feet in the air

Me bantam cock lay dead

And the vultures circled overhead they did...

What a noble bird, what a champion cock

What a way to live and to die

I was digging him a grave to save his bones

From the hungry buzzards in the sky

When the bantam opened up a sly little eye...

He gave me a wink and a terrible grin

The way that rapists do

He said you see them big daft buggers up there

They'll be down in a minute or two

They'll be down in a minute or two

[Thetyim]

Ayup Jay, didn't ken thou was into poems.

Have ye got this 'un

"The Charabanc Trip" , by Ivor Biggun

accompanied by Robin Langridge, aged 14, at the piano forte.

Music maestro please!

On the map of North Notts you'll find Worksop

Where I lived when I was a lad

In a house with me Mam, 2 sisters & Gran

One brother, a budgie, and Dad.

At the end of our street was a boozer

black as stout, uninviting & glum

A den of depravity it stank like a lavatory

Where me Dad went to hide from me Mum.

At the end of the bar in a bottle

Every week half a dollar he'd slip

For the annual treat when the kids in the street

Went to coast on a Charabanc trip.

We'd set off in morning from Worksop

En route for Sutton-on-Sea

With the Holiday Club, them as paid up their sub,

Half the street & my brother & me.

There was old Mrs. Brough from the tripe shop

Big soft Doris, her 2 little lasses

And her sister Helen with a bust like 2 melons

And a face like an 'arseole with glasses.

There was Perfumed Gordon the hairdresser

And nobody did make it clear

Why a rude boy called Tailor

Cried out 'Hello Sailor'

And something about ginger beer.

There was Desperate Derek, his brother Big Eric

And Basher & Masher & Butch

And Lil who was willing for only a shilling

Which was still about tenpence too much.

There was Mavis who wouldn't

'Cos her mum said she shouldn't,

There was Neville who wished that he could

And then there was Heather who said that she'd never

But looked like she probably would!

Well my Dad took a crate of ale with him

Intending to travel in style

Charabanc did 25 miles to the gallon

My Dad did half pint to the mile!

Rain were chucking it down leaving Worksop

Through North Notts it did not desist

There were cows with bronchitis & wet sheep to invite us

When Lincolnshire loomed up through t' mist

Rain slacked off soon to a medium monsoon

And the day didn't look such a black 'un

When the driver called Reg pulled up by a hedge

And we all made a dash for the bracken.

Dad rushed to a tree and said 'excuse me'

And right there one penny he spent it

He said, 'Aint it queer, one thing about beer

You don't really buy it, you rent it!'

Well this idyllic scene mid the nettles & steam

Was soon torn by my brother's plaintive cries.

The poor little nipper caught his dong in his zipper

He was dancing with tears in his eyes.

Then back on t' coach off to Sutton

We got there, 'eee weather were grand

And we gazed on the sea, cold, the colour of tea

And smelt candyfloss, dodgems & sand.

There were shops full of rock

There were hats with rude slogans

There was music & cries of hilarity

There were games on the sands, there were jellied-eel stands

And souvenir shops packed with vulgarity.

My brother ran down to the ocean

His intention the water to reach

For his foot he just thrust in something disgusting

A donkey had left on the beach.

The sea was as cold as a polar bear's dick

We watched Punch kill the crocodile dead

And after throwing some sand at Salvation Army band

We went off to the funfair instead.

There was a ride called a comet made you scream, faint & vomit

Half deafening you hung upside down

And the last bit, a spinner, brought up rest of yer dinner

Not bad, you know, for just half a crown!

There were post cards with fat women, nudists and Scotsmen,

Honeymooners and dirty weekenders

And in a machine what the butler had seen

Dimly flickered about in suspenders.

We ate cockles & whelks & big winkles,

Soggy chips, toffee apples like glue,

The hot dogs were funions like something rude wrapped in onions,

But we ate them, and pease pudding too.

Then we went on to dodgems & waltzer,

And big dipper that rises & falls.

It was on this machine that my brother turned green

And his eyes stood out like bulldog's balls.

The poor little chap he was sick in his cap.

It was his best 'un, he started to cry

So not wishing to spoil it we swilled it in toilet

And he wore it until it was dry!

The driver found us and said 'Back to the bus'.

Through the dark we ran back the whole way

Candyfloss in our hair, but we didn't care

Eee we'd had such a wonderful day.

And with charabanc firing on several cylinders

We set off for Worksop & home

Rattling down the highway singing songs of Max Bygraves

Accompanied on paper & comb.

In the dim orange glow of the coachlight, so low

Courting couples were billing & cooing

Hoping perhaps that the coats in their laps

Would conceal the rude things they were doing!

We pulled up in our street about half past eleven

There was Mam, there was Granny & all,

They gazed in admiration at the plaster alsatian

We'd won for 'em at coconut stall.

I drank up my Cocoa, I ate up my sandwich

And soon up in bed I was curled

I was dreaming a dream I was leading the team

On first charabanc trip around world.

Eee those things that I did when I was a kid

Although they were simple & small

Now I've grown up I find I look back in my mind

I'm sure they were best times of all.

Cos I've been to Majorca, and by that's a corker

I've been to Pompeii & Herico-Unalium

The French Riviera were the ladies are barer

I've even paddled in Meditteranium.

I've drunk various vinos in Torremolinos

But of all these I'll tell you for free.

There's none can compete with that Charabanc treat

With me brother to Sutton-on-Sea!!

[This computerised version entered onto hard disk by Peter Notley, 23 April

1996, from a type-written script (unearthed during a house clearance in

London in Nov. '95) by same writer of approx 20 years previous. This latter

script was itself derived from a tape-recording of an LP called ' The

Winker's Album (Misprint)', by Ivor Biggun & the Red-nosed Burglars, a

renegade group dismissed by the BBC in the late '70s for broadcasting this

overly risque material.]

[jayenram]

Ayup Jay, didn't ken thou was into poems.

Have ye got this 'un

"The Charabanc Trip" , by Ivor Biggun

accompanied by Robin Langridge, aged 14, at the piano forte.

Music maestro please!

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

I love it! Reminds me a bit about Scarbra when I was a nipper!

[mnoorsapl]

Kenny opens one eye, nods toward the buzzards circling in the sky and says, "Shhh..... they're getting closer."

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>