Of all, Ganar the hen, dressed up in her fancy fame,
to meet Master Saamdy’s agents, to tribute and appease.
With her is a gift of dagger. Out of pure ignorance.
Pen, hen’s neighbor, advised of sharp-edged gifts,
“Anything that cuts, is not safe for gifts,” Pen argued.
Pen takes comfort in liquid gifts. “Milk for ink will do,” Pen advised.
Ganar the hen takes pride in her morning melody tone, said “cocoliicoo”
Her inheritance windfall, within which lies mystical powers of shoeshine,
Hen’s early morning songs of praise that keeps the kings and queens massaged.
Pen, a good friend to Town crier, shared the news – Hen’s welcome to the parade
Some ugly wrestle was dragging its feet – a sharp-edged gift to do its job
As and when Saamdy the Master orders for hen’s welcome to the parade’s honor.
Pen trembled to his bone marrows over crier’s insensitivity,
Crier’s early morning awakening announcement of a sacrifice,
The clock ticked and hours elapsed, inevitable as it was,
It was finally there (sadly) – ganar the hen was welcomed to the parade.