Polly’s crazy antics inspired me to write the text for a children’s book. Getting it illustrated is kind of on a back burner right now, but here’s the story…

Polly is a Polish chicken
Who lives up on the coffee table
She could have chosen anywhere
She certainly was more than able

She liked it there
up off the floor
She could easily see
right out the door

She’d watch the song birds
fly to and fro
Why they chose to live out side,
she just didn’t know

See now polish chicken are very odd
They don’t look a thing like you and me
The feathers on their head hang down
Into their eyes, they can barely see.

But watch those birds
She’s continue to do
Through the window panes
Like her own personal zoo

Now From time to time
she ventures down
And takes a leisurely stroll
out and around

But soon she returns
to her table top
It isn’t hard
just takes one hop.

When it was time to stretch
She stands up tall
On her tippy toes
But she doesn’t fall

She stretches and flaps
Her feathery wings
And if the mood is right
She even sings…

Cluck Cluck Cluckity Cluck
Buck Buck Buckity Buck