I think that I shall never eat

A chicken leg that's half so sweet.

 

Or when my hungry mouth is press'd

Against the chicken's white meat breast;

 

A thigh that looks to be half chewed,

When appetite has been accrued;

 

A wing that may in Summer's heat

Be barbecued in manner neat;

 

Upon a dinner plate it lies;

While Caspian's concerned with flies.

 

Poems are made for fools to read,

Please pass the beer (or ale or mead.)