Cotton “A ballad of a mean one eyed rooster”

I once had a one eyed rooster: Cotton
But like my pops did to me, I forgot him.
Until this evening, when he crossed my mind.
A memory to stumble and find.

Now Cotton was mean as could be.
As you’ll soon come to see.
Spurs were big and were hardly discreet.
For you city slickers, those are the things on the back of their feet.

One fierce day, in a banyard scuffle.
A clash breaks out, hens begins to shout
Cotton turns; out of concern; to see what the fuss is about
Feathers cascade, a soft array,
it veils the view in a feathery ballet.
Cottons eye, a casualty in the heat.
A battle scar, story complete.
But hold up one second, now let me retreat.
Have I ever told you about my hero?

A three legged dog that we loved to call Nero….