The Chicken House
When I was a little girl about five
We bought baby chickens so small
Kept them warm by the wood stove
We could hardly hear them at all.
Just sweet little peeping sounds
I loved to sit on the floor by them
Cuddled up together they were
Each one was a golden gem.
But they grew very fast it seemed
When the warm weather was here
They had to go to the chicken house
Then I had a bit of a nagging fear.
For something could happen to them
So I would sit there quiet as a mouse
Oh, how memories pop up sometimes
Of my visits long at the chicken house.