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This is the obituary of Jonnie the Cocker


He was a good cock,
A strong jogoo I would say
And I ate him
 

I remember him chasing our only hen
Too small for him I’d say but,
She still brought forth a small round egg
And I ate him
 

I remember that day, the day of the laying- in the evening
He stood outside the chicken house, unwilling to enter, confused
Unsure of the situation; peeping, sometimes staring-quite like the man he was Ha!
And I ate him
 

He was a strong one; that jogoo
A good one; Confident
Crowing at three then at four and then at six
But I ate him

 
On the day they hatched, he wasn't happy, he grumbled, he couldn’t stand the chicks
He trampled them and quarrelled their mother; her feathers were everywhere
Brutal bastard; my wife was mad
So I ate him

 

I remember the day I came home
The sufuria was full and the smell was lovely
‘There is your jogoo!’
And so I ate him

 

This is the obituary of Jonnie the cock
He was a strong jogoo
A good one

I ate him

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