Short Poems, Long Poems & Limericks

A Glass Half Full of Stuff to Read

Napoleon the Cockerel

Somewhere deep between lochs and glens

In the place that they call Scotland

There was trapped a gaggle of short little girls

And one great but shorter man


But as great as this man was

He couldn't escape because

He didn't have a plan


He meant the world

To his loyal girls

Who kept him going on

The little man was known

Throughout the farm

As lucky old Napoleon


Now Napoleon was a cockerel

A fine and feathered general

Everything he would say

With one wing tucked away

No matter who or what it was

Be them animal, vegetable or mineral


He crowed his crow

Wherever he would go

All about the farm

A cocky bird

Who was always heard

And totally lacked any charm


Aware he had made many foes

After crowing his boastful crows

He realised soon it was time to go


So he gathered all his hens

One day inside the pen

He marched them all the way down the hill

Then marched them back again

With a cock-a-doodle-doo

He marched them two by two

But the gate was locked

And he was shocked

He didn't know what to do


After some feathered thinking

The cockerel concocted a plan

He may have been short and annoying

But he was one smart avian


When night time came the cockerel crept

While the lady who owned the farm, she slept

And though the gate was locked

The cockerel's head cocked

And at the lock he pecked


Napoleon he crowed

“Down to the gate let’s go!”

He called his girls

His short little girls

To take over the world


With a buck-buck-a-buck

And a cluckity-cluck-cluck

They thought they'd try their luck


Upon the farm

They could do no harm

But now that they were free

The plucky troupe

Had flown the coup

And evil they would be

But the lady farmer

She did spy them

Because they were trapped

On the Scottish highland


“Ach aye those birds,

Will have some harsh words,

From my wagging tongue

I may be old

If the truth be told

But I'll move like I am young!”


Napoleon he organised

All his soldiers so greatly

They tried to peck

Without much luck

That little Scottish lady


They pecked in pairs, in pairs of two

But it wasn't they who won

The battle of doodle-doo


And when they were all back safely

Inside their maximum security pen

No one ever saw Napoleon

Or heard him crow again.


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