The butchers in the kitchen, stroking their beard,
Saying “Christmas stew is already smeared,
And we won’t await the growth of the baby bird”
Hurried off my heels to mother hen
“The old butchers are coming for your chick”
“Let them tarry not”, said she then
“But their price will be higher. Let them come quick”
Running off to baby chick, I met wailing.
Her tear streamed, heard her saying
“There’s no more rebelling
The butcher’s teeth will be caring”
Christmas came knocking
The butchers came calling
The crying chick came smiling.
I went home with my ears ajar
The butcher’s roar and the chick’s groan coming in from afar
Who will pity the chicks tear?
Who will make the butcher fear?
For I am only one of the chick’s sisters
I might be wearing her shoes next Christmas
Written by: Arinze Okafor
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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I am a member of the WRR editorial team.