THE WHITE COCK.

It crows at the dawn of day,

Despite sun or rain,

Its crowing resounds in my head,

Making me toss and turn on my bed,

And when I step outside my room,

I see it in the hood,

Chasing hens,

And as I put paper to pen,

It displays it feathers,

Even in the cold weather,

Its cro-cro-cro-cro sound,

In my head abound,

As it chases the hens all over the compound,

I am held spellbound,

And when it has won its price,

It mounts with pride,

Piercing with its proboscis,

Enjoying the ride in estasy,

And when it comes down,

It spreads its wings all over town,

Like the peacock,

So is my neighbourhood white cock.