He came from an egg, and had spurs upon his leg,
Liked to brush him and keep him real groomy
Nice comb, peaked and red, like a crown on his head,
My pet rooster sure meant a lot to me

Speckled rings on his neck, multi-colored, brown fleck
Harold was built like the fighter, Jack Dempsey
Tail feathers arched free, formed a big letter, "C"
He'd peck kernels of corn till cob's empty

Pumped up with pride, just like he owned the outside
A good friend that so much I could count on
Ev'ry morning he'd crow an alarm clock, "Hello"
From the fence in the backyard he'd mount on

I'd share, when woke up, sips of coffee from my cup
On our farm past the suburbs of Cleveland
Fresh donuts, I'd chew, my pet rooster would, too
He was picky and pecky at stealin'

When I'd plow fields to produce the corn yields,
With me, on the rig he'd be ridin'
Before day was done, Harold would stray, seekin' fun
With some love-friendly hens he'd be stridin'

Broke mono law like a Mormon from Utah
Few females could resist the cock's passion
If chickens could smile, his hens would a while
Even once jumped a duck, kept her splashin'

When milkin' time came and the cows were in stalls
He would strut through the barn like a soldier
Loved milk for dessert, so, I'd shoot him a squirt,
Other times, he'd just perch on my shoulder

At theCounty Fair time, entered my pet, in his prime
View the judgin' with lady friend, Cheryl
A cool mannered stance, other cocks had no chance
Later took home a blue ribboned, Harold

Nobody could know my deep love for this bird
I would tease him and spoil him for hours
He'd crow as we'd play, cockadoodled away
If soiled from the yard, gave him showers

It could have been fate, such a terrible thing,
That happened the following Sunday
Great day, as days went, till a tragic event,
Made me hope for it's hurry to Monday

It was dinnertime, superior eats
Mom's magnificent feast set for luncheon
Eyes had never seen such a table dream
All anxious, through grace, for the munchin'

"Darned good chicken, Mom.." I said, "Where's it from?"
And the back of my mind double barreled
When she said from the yard, felt my throat swallow hard,
And a scream in my head said, "It's Harold!!!"

It seems that my Mom had sent out cousin Tom,
Who was visitin' here from Kentucky,
In the yard to select a good bird, tall, erect..
Skip the rest, just say Harold wasn't lucky

His crowin' is gone from our Cleveland farm, at dawn
And the days on my tractor are gloomy
Other roosters are still fed, but poor Harold is dead,
And a cannibal feeling runs through me..