Classic Poem

The agèd hens of Oripò,
They tempt the stormy sea;
Black, white and brown, they spread their wings,
And o'er the waters flee;
And when a little fish they clutch
Athwart the wave so blue,
They utter forth a joyful note,—
A cock-a-doodle-doo!
O! Oo! Oripò—Oo! the hens of Oripò!

The crafty hens of Oripò,
They wander on the shore,
Where shrimps and winkles pick they up,
And carry home a store;
For barley, oats, or golden corn,
To eat they never wish,
All vegetably food they scorn,
And only seek for fish.
O! Oo! Oripò—Oo! the hens of Oripò!

The wily hens of Oripò,
Black, white and brown and gray,
They don't behave like other hens;
In any decent way.
They lay their eggs among the rocks,
Instead of in the straw,
…
…
O! Oo! Oripò—Oo! the hens of Oripò!

The nasty hens of Oripò,
With ill-conditioned zeal,
All fish defunct they gobble up,
At morn or evening meal.
Whereby their eggs, as now we find,
…
A fishlike ancient smell and taste
Unpleasant doth pervade.
O! Oo! Oripò—Oo! the hens of Oripò!