Dotty's Jewelled Botty

   

Dotty’s Jewelled Botty.

 

Florence had a chicken,

She loved her very much.

She had her since a tiny egg

She picked her from the clutch.

 

The other hens were jealous

Right through and through,

For Dotty was special,

And this I’ll share with you.

 

Dotty was scruffy

With feathers all rough,

Her beak was on twisted

And her toes were all scuffed.

 

But Florence liked to groom her,

Tie her into tartan vests,

And jig her round the garden,

Singing, “Dotty – you’re the BEST!”

 

At night time all the other hens

Poked and prodded in the coop,

“Dotty you’re an awful mess,

A disgrace to our troop.”

 

“You’re not much of a chicken

In fact you are the dregs

You cannot even cluck right and

You’ve never laid an egg.

 

We are all prize winners

And beautiful to boot

Our eggs go in rich kids’ dinners,

And make the farmer lots of loot.

 

But Dotty you are useless

You’re not like all the rest

Go on, put some effort it,

Try to fill your nest.”

 

“Lay an egg Dotty!

You really must not fail,

Just cluck really loudly,

And waggle your tail.

 

Squeeze out one to boil

Or try for a fryer

A scrambler might be too much toil

But nothing will prove dire.”

 

Poor Dotty groaned,

She strained and pushed,

Her eyes started streaming,

“Help” she cried, “my cheeks are flushed,”

And then she started screaming.

 

The other hens laughed

They sniggered and lurched,

“Silly Dotty no eggs!”

As they tumbled from their perch.

 

Then one full moon night,

Dotty woke in full squawk

As she felt a strange urge

Of a needing to purge.

 

All of a sudden,

She clucked out a yell,  

And out popped a golden egg

With jewels over its shell!

 

“Ha ha, look at that!

You stupid bird,”

The other hens spat,

“It’s quite absurd.”

 

“An egg should be smooth,

Not covered with lumps,

Shiny and creamy brown,

Not splattered with bumps.”

 

Poor Dotty felt a real fool

With all the others howling

She quickly hid the egg deep down

And went to sleep still frowning.

 

So the next night once again

The squeezing in shame,

The pushing and pain,

Of beautiful stones with exotic names.

 

A sparkling of gold dust

All over the floor

By midnight her bottom

Was really quite sore.

 

Over and over, poor Dotty had

The same odd ordeal,

The others hens making her feel

Really quite stupid and mad.

 

“I’m such a sad chicken

If only I could,

Lay an ordinary cooking egg

That would be good.”

 

When Florence came to clean the coop

She found Dotty all teary and snotty,

With tail feathers all of a droop

And terribly red, itchy botty.

 

She gave her a kiss,

“Oh Dotty are you ill?

What did I miss?

Do you need cream or a pill?”

 

Dotty nodded at her scruffy nest

“Look there,” she did implore,

Florence knelt to peep inside,

Upon the golden floor.

 

“Wow! This is treasure!” Florence gasped

“Did you make them for especially for me?”

“Yes,” Dotty clucked “but they won’t go with bread,

And they’re no good for your tea.”

 

“Who cares!” shouted Florence,

“Don’t look so glum,

We can live in a palace,

I can move out of my slum.”

 

“Excuse me,” said Dotty,

Feeling upset,

“My bottom did the toil,

What thanks shall it get?”

 

‘That’s easy,” laughed Florence,

“An iced, cushioned seat,

Whilst I sit on a throne,

Munching chocolate treats.

 

“For you’ve made us a fortune,

I said you were the best,

You’re way above the other birds,

Too good for this smelly old nest.”

 

The other hens started to growl,

As Dotty swelled up with pride,

“See, I’m no ordinary foul,

I’ve got jewels on my insides.”

 

“Yes,” said Florence,

“We’re rich beyond measure,

Thanks to your bottom

For this incredible treasure.

 

But best of all

I promise, you see

Living in our palace,

Will be just you and me.”