The Lay of Lady-Hen Lace Silver

Attend! Here to be retold by the Lady Lace Red
is a tale of woe, grief, and dread,
Of the deeds of the white rooster
and his fair lady of lace silver.

His plumes were bright; his step was light,
so brave was he, Sir Araucana White.
Her voice was myrrh, her wings like fur,
so rare was she, fair Lady Lace Silver.

The masked raccoon and the sly fox,
the rabid dogs and the high hawks,
To them the chickens all were prey,
but the coop door kept them at bay.

Deep shadows and splinter├ęd ice
all remnants of a cold March night.
The softly sleeping did not know
what danger hid itself below.

The Human did not close the door
as well as she had done before.
Sharp, desperate claws sat in wait;
their chance had come with the weak gate!

The first life they stole, Pullet Bright,
died with nary a squawk of spite.
The second neck they grasped and ate,
was good Sir White's belov├ęd mate.

The noble Sir White awoke then,
and with a loud cry, stopped their din.
Fiery eyes blazing, he killed
talons puncturing lungs blood-filled.

When fur and feathers flew no more,
a dead raccoon was on the floor.
Sir White stood proud, glorious,
sang a great crow, victorious.

But, Alas! His fair lady-queen
her feathers spoilt with blood unclean
She lay broken upon the ground,
the fairest lady ever crowned.