Not A Spring Chicken

I am not a Spring chicken, I am not,
And I haven’t any mother, that is what!
Just the bright July sun beaming,
On the nest where I lay dreaming
Was what caused me to be here, that’s what!
I was carried to the store one day
After laying twenty days on the hay,
In the hottest July weather,
I and some more eggs together
And was ready then to throw my shell away.
And they put me in the case at the store,
And they nailed the lid down solid as before,
But instead of sleeping, sleeping,
I began a peeping, peeping,
And I raised a consternation in that store.
“There’s a chicken in that case, I declare”
Said the grocer, “and I think it’s right there
In that very top-most layer,”
And he looked and found me there,
And now I’m no Spring chicken I declare!