Seven Roosters

Seven Roosters

Seven roosters in a row, to the neighbors house did go.

There they found a friend indeed, coaxed and petted, plied with feed.

Now each day that springs anew, brings a tableau to my view.

Crowing roosters in the grass, wet with dew they shrill and blast.

Wake me up on Saturday, only time I may sleep late.

"It's Jim's fault!" please let me say, treats them so well that now they stay.

They come to call and on the porch, they peck upon our new storm door.

Beckoning, they knock and knock, then crow until the hinges rock.

Roosters knocking on our door??  "Where is Jim?" their calls implore.

A country girl for all my life, I've never seen such fowlish strife.

A charmer from his day of birth, I hope this poem brings him mirth.

My Jim did tame and pet his best and turned those roosters into guests.

And should you think this is a ruse, just listen as they call my muse.

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