NH ( / London)

Dulce Et Dechicken Est

Feathers ruffled,
We headed into no chickens land,
And there with our beaks at the ready,
We trundled onwards,
There was a chickfight,
Going on over head,
As the fighter hens,
Splattered the enemy,
With there breakfast,
And as the shells broke around us,
And we were splattered in egg,
I remember that old lie,
Dulce et dechicken est,
Pro patria eggi.

User Rating: 3,1 / 5 ( 7 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

Ahh! A reader of Owen! This has potential.. I think it could be developed in so many ways and my feverish brain is awash with silliness already! Thank you. Inspiration comes from the most unexpected quarters. I shall be disappointed if I find you have already done so as IU read more of your work..............; =)
I'm warming to this theme: -) : -)