Feathers ruffled,
We headed into no chickens land,
And there with our beaks at the ready,
We trundled onwards,
There was a chickfight,
Going on over head,
As the fighter hens,
Splattered the enemy,
With there breakfast,
And as the shells broke around us,
And we were splattered in egg,
I remember that old lie,
Dulce et dechicken est,
Pro patria eggi.
Nick Hilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dulce-et-dechicken-est/
