Plymouth Rock Blues

I got so many chickens, can’t tell my roosters from my hens
I got so many chickens, can’t tell my roosters from my hens
I got to go back now, and look 'em all over again
I found my rooster this morning by looking at his comb
I found my rooster this morning by looking at his comb
You can look out now, pullets, it won’t be long
My hens all cackling, I can’t find no eggs
My hens all cackling, I can’t find no eggs
You ain’t got no excuse now, pullets, ain’t nothing in your way
I’m gonna take this old hen, I’m go down to the doctor’s shop
I’m gonna take this old hen, I’m go down to the doctor’s shop
I don’t see what’s the matter with 'em, they won’t bip a bop
I done told you one time, papa, I don’t want my chicken meat
I done told you one time, papa, I don’t want my chicken meat
I don’t want them banty’s mixed up with my dominiques
Shoo, chickens, shoo, I don’t want no banty’s on my yard
Shoo, chickens, shoo, I don’t want no banty’s on my yard
I don’t want them banty’s mixed up with my Plymouth Rocks