Nov 2014
Peep. Peep. Peep.
Wee chicks
I love to keep.
Peep. Peep. Peep.
Chicks cluster
At my feet.
Peep. Peep. Peep.
In warmth and comfort
Sleep.
Peep. Peep. Peep.
For weeks
You feed and peep.
Oh little Peeps
On grain you're fed;
Wee Peeps,
Wee Peeps,
Now dead.
Now dead.
Wee chicks
I love to keep.
Peep. Peep. Peep.
Chicks cluster
At my feet.
Peep. Peep. Peep.
In warmth and comfort
Sleep.
Peep. Peep. Peep.
For weeks
You feed and peep.
Oh little Peeps
On grain you're fed;
Wee Peeps,
Wee Peeps,
Now dead.
Now dead.
Byron raised his first ten chicks and we brought them to the slaughter house. Byron needed to write this to flesh out the bond between man and chicken.
