Warning: Contains rather graphic grossness.

Hope you enjoy!

-Finna

Chicken guts.

Sometimes I feel like I have no heart

As I shred, cut, and rip apart

An innocent hen

Who when,

Faced with her own eggs

And the size of her scrawny legs

Ate them to make herself fat

Then she was beheaded and that was that

So, as I squelch my way through her innards

And my thoughts turn inwards

I am glad that she didn't scarf

Scraps or slime or else I might barf

The knife saws away at the rubber

Then it slides into the blubber

Here my sister gets quite nauseous

Well, its justified, the hen was gaseous

I insert my hand, it is a bit snug

Then with one very little tug

And with a hissing popping sound

Some extra stink all around

A long stringy worm comes out

It's the intestines, hope they don't spout

Then comes the gizzard

For cooking food it is a wizard

The rocks inside work to grind

Then I sneak my hand farther up to find

The heart of the bird

Oops, it decided to turd

I scrape out the lungs and the kidneys

Mom uses them to make tasty gravys

Then out come my hands and I move

Too the neck where I cut a shallow groove

Out comes the bumpy hollow tube

It looks like a vacuum hose with a cube

On the end, it's the voice box

That's how the chickens talks

And then out comes the craw

Be very careful, it's the law

For the craw could be busted

And then you'd be toasted.

Because it is filled with gross things

Not something for sauce on barbecued wings.

And then the esophagus

It goes into the sarcophagus,

A five-gallon pail

Not at all fancy, not a grail

And then the hen is washed,

Before it is tossed,

Into the plastic Ziplock,

Put in the freezer it hardens to rock.

Then one nice bright day,

Mom decides to pay,

The freezer a visit for meat.

And then then up she will cook up the tastiest treat,

Some soup or some stew or some curry!

Oh, dinner is ready, let's hurry!