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Again you ask me “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
I can’t talk now, I fear I’ll burst, I’m hopping on one leg ...
That’s better. When you must, you must - we hens pee in a clutch.
It’s all this pecking in the dust that makes us drink so much.
My sisters cackle; I suspect that one has foully played,
And, green with jealousy, has pecked the egg I’d newly laid!
Yes, we’re a squawking, squabbling band competing round the clock;
Each hopes to win a one-night stand with that enormous cock.

So which came first? The question’s dumb. Reflect a bit, I beg:
Of course the rooster first must come to fertilize the egg.