One more time
One more time
Just cut them eyes at me one more time.

She’s acting like 
I’m fixing to
dip my paw in her beehive.

A hungry weasel at the 
Chicken house door
Looking for a neck and a vein,
Leaving nothing but a feathered carcass –
A hint at the taking.

Calm down girl. 
I don’t want what’s yours.
Why do we compete 
For them that are never ours anyhow?

My Aunt Olie says they’re no count,
But I guess we can’t help ourselves.
The need for that blood runs
Right through us,
Surely as the hunger of that old weasel
She will cuss about come morning.