We once had a rooster, and pretty was he,
As tall as a house and as regal as could be.
A giant of a bird so I called him Goliath,
We kept him around because he did something for me.
Goliath was a pleasant poultry lad,
Mild in manner, he was never ever bad.
Due to his size, I was quite surpriseth,
He dealt with many a hen and never got mad.
So we eased into a comfortable routine,
With two gentle roosters who never got mean.
All seemed well and we figured it would forever be so,
With two strutting males who just had to be seen.
Then in the eve Goliath refused to go into the coop,
He'd roost on the old feed trough above all the poop.
It made us question if he had made a true foe,
With one of the other birds who threw him out of the loop.
Again we relaxed into a comfortable lot,
(At the end of the day not all chickens can be caught.)
Until I had that moment from 'Home Alone',
When I realized Goliath was gone...so for him I frantically sought.
He was gone from the coop, gone from the kennel and not with the steers,
At least I couldn't see him, not through all of my tears.
He just vanished without leaving a feather or bone,
No note no nothing to calm my worst fears.
So now he is gone, and it's such a mystery,
Goliath is gone, he must be history.