A Poultry Tale Lyrics

Drake: In this backwater of England, where the pace of life is slow and the lilies on the lake are broad and lush. We’re all living here in clover, and the mating season’s over so there won’t because for anyone to blush. In our land both green and pleas-ant every bantam, duck and pheasant if they had them would be walking arm in arm. For our life is good and steady till we’re plucked and oven ready, it’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm! There’s a turkey with a gobble, watch his wattle start to wobble when the rooster cock-a-doodles the alarm. We’ve got pullets, we’ve got chickens, we’ve got quails, and what the dickens. It’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm! What gorgeous vision this is! It’s Ida, she’s my missus, so for-give me if I’m laying on the smarm. She goes in for heat-ed quacking to point out the skills I’m lacking. It’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm!  

Chorus: Come on down and don’t be strangers, in our duck-yard of free-rangers. It’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm!

(Musical Interlude)

Maureen and Ida: Here where waterfowl have waddled, little chicks get mollycoddled!

Ida: For the cat would like to do them grievous harm. He’s our only source of worry, feathers rarely get to flurry! 

Chorus: It’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm!

Cat: Ha! How they flatter them-selves. I never show much interest in this group. I admit I’m quite a glut-ton, but this feathered form of mutton wouldn’t even make a palatable soup! But when those little duck-lings hatch that’s a flavor you won’t match, they’re delicious and I just can’t get enough. As a felon who is feline, you will see me make a bee-line for those tender lit-le juicy balls of fluff! 

Chorus: In our waterfowl regatta there’s a moor-hen fond of chatter and a
In our waterfowl regatta there’s a moorhen fond of chatter and a mandarin with oriental charm. You’ll find mandarin with oriental charm. You’ll find every goose or gander!

Grace: Tho’ of course I’m rather grander. 

Chorus: It’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm! We may strike some classic poses and we all have Parson’s noses, but that doesn’t mean you’ll hear a single psalm! For all reverence is rejected, blatant fowl play is suspected! It’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm! Come on down and don’t be strangers, in our duck-yard of free-rangers. It’s a poultry tale! It’s a poultry tale! It’s a poultry tale of folk down on the farm…Ha-arm…Ha-arm…Boc-a-dagr!