The Chicken Case

Today we’ll see tricky issue, and we can learn a lesson

by asking what a chicken is.  Yes, that is the question.

Ms. Frig was so excited, it was almost the end of May,

Almost the best day of the year, almost Chicken Parade Day!

But Frig had a problem, she had no chickens yet!

“No chickens for my chicken float”, she worried and she fret.

So she called up Mr. Beans, who sold chickens all around,

“Please send any kind of chicken.  I’ll pay 33 cents per pound.”

Mr. Beans responded quickly and said, “You’ve got a deal.”

But the chickens Beans sent over had some unexpected zeal.

When Frig saw those chickens, she winced and gave a scowl,

And said, “These aren’t chickens, they are nothing more than fowl.

I expected decent chickens that were big and that were brawny,

But these are rather puny birds, so skinny and so scrawny.

These surely are not chickens, since these birds look far too goofy,

With so few feathers on their behinds, they are not very poofy.”

"I guess our deal was rather vague,” admitted Mr. Beans,

“To solve this issue, we must decide what the word ‘chicken’ means.

We can look to industry norm, since we left ‘chicken’ undefined.

Let’s ask a chicken expert.  Pick a brilliant chicken mind.

We could ask the Chicken Intelligence Agency – they are so secretive though.

So let’s call the Fowl and Bird Investigators.  The FBI should know.”

The FBI investigated then gave an official report.

About whether these were chickens or whether they fell short.

“Like every other chicken, they always say 'cluck cluck.'

They’d never gobble like a turkey, never quack like a duck. 

And beneath their bulky chicken boots are skinny chicken legs,

And when resting in a chicken coop, they lay standard chicken eggs.”

“This is all sheer madness," said Frig as she sighed.

“But I guess these are my chickens since I can’t prove otherwise.”

Frig rounded up her chickens and then put them on her float,

And sulked sadly on the sidelines with a big lump in her throat.

Then floats went by, and chickens marched on, and then more chickens came.

The crowd looked bored, it was so dull, the chickens were all the same.

But when Frig’s float came by, the crowd finally stirred,

Finally something new!  These weren't just standard birds.

Frig's goofy birds passed by with a ukele and a flute,

And strummed a lovely song and flouted a little toot.

The birds did a different dance, stomping with their boots.

They played a different song, tooting with their flutes.

"Stomp, stomp, cluck, cluck, toot, toot, pluck, pluck!"

The crowd sang and danced and went absolutely wild,

And at last Frig understood, as she danced along and smiled.

Because these special chickens were so quirky and so bold,

Frig and her chickens brought home the Chicken Parade gold.

So we’ve learned everyone is different, but we’re also all the same.

And it’s the things that make us different that bring fortune and bring fame.

And we’ve learned that saying “chicken” is not as simple as it sounds,

Define it with the parties' words and the context that surrounds.