FARMER: Time to kill

                  Time to slaughter

                  Time to make merry and gather my plunder

                  'Tis that time of the year when my harvest dost I gather

                  And seat with mine dames whom I always flatter

                  And laugh and eat till we all become pregnant 

                  With meat and dough and fish and all remnant

FOWL:    Oh, look at me: a sheep for the slaughter

                  I envy my mates who can fly yon' from danger

                  Look how I am tamed and will be burnt in fire

                  But 'fore that I am sure my first fate will be hot water

                  That is after the old man has butchered my neck

                  Not alone but with his dames, all hands on deck!

                  Oh what did I do to have such a fate

                  I only crave corn and to one day poop on his face

FARMER: I am getting ready for this glorious feast

                  My cows, my sheep, my goats do bleat             

                  I cannot wait for my dames to put oil in the pan

                  And turn to gold the meat of the ram that almost ran

                  Almost fled from my grip because he thought I was too old

                  But old man Rane is like a crane and can handle any load

                  I am he, he is me, and I will eat of my fold

FOWL:   I do wonder, did God create us to end up in the grave?

                 To give us such a fate means we're scorned in his eyes

                 He gave man all control of his life

                 But we're to work and work and end up in the grave.

                 But oh, I see wisdom in the dealings of God

                 To control their lives goats and sheep are all too dumb

                 'Tis seen in the way they foolishly chew on their cud

                 Yes, 'tis in George Orwell’s book too, I surmise

                 Of how animals are not wise enough to take hold of their lives.

                 I thus lay down my life to the satisfaction of old Ranes

                 He is but a good fellow, yet, I succumb to my fate

                 'Tis the will of God and I cannot fight it

                 I do wish they enjoy me as they eat

                 The sweetest item on their great feast

FARMER: Where are you my sweet fowl?

                  The dames are waiting patiently to devour

                  Please come out and I'll treat you nicely

                  Because you have behaved very faithfully

FOWL:   I am here my master

                 Eat me and grow fatter

                 Take my children and enjoy your feast

                 Take my brothers, see they now at your feet

FARMER: What is this that I hear?

                  The fowl speaks?

                  What…what is going on here?

                  Strange things have I seen in my farm, but this sight none can beat

                  Dames, dames...the fowl dost speak!

                  My village people have come again

                  To end my life and take all my grain!

                  I better run before it picks up a knife 

                  In a gesture of revolt and end my life

                  My life, oh my life, the fowl dost speak!