Well, if it’s chickens now...
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From Walt Chicken’s Crossing a Brooklyn Street
It avails not, time nor place — distance avails not,
I am with you, you hens and roosters of a generation, or ever so many generations hence,
Just as you feel when you look on the traffic and road, so I felt,
Just as any of you is one of a living flock, I was one of a flock,
Just as you are alarmed by the clamour of the traffic and the swift flow, I was alarmed,
Just as you hop and bob on the curb, yet hurry to your sudden death, I hopp’d and hurried,
Just as you cluck’d at the numberless wheels of cars and the rumbling of fatal semitrailers, I cluck’d.
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