“I’m doing the funky chicken”
Said a breathless ageing Duck.
The Pig was as white as snow
He was dumbstruck.
Feathers were flying everywhere
As the Duck felt the beat.
The Pig could not move his eyes
From the Duck’s unbelievable feet.
He was staring intently
He was now in a trance
He had not one clue
That the Duck could dance.
The Duck put up his wing
And had said to give him five.
He was well in with the groove
Spinning and now to jive.
But the Pig wasn’t agile enough
His trotters had now forgot.
They’d refused to move
Let alone tackle the fox trot.
But with practice
Maybe then he would improve.
Maybe!