The busy road was croweded from head to toe on Crow Street,/For the monsters of the road drove at a nice steady beat./Poor Chicky Chicken had only one thought but to cross the road./Past the dangerous weaves of metal and gears filled with still forebode.

Bustling they sped as one making hast toward ones' place;/Of a small chicken this was a sight of looked of a race./Chicky could see the mess of paint all going sundry a by;/Flying one way then the other so many vast a sky.

This mattered not for had mind only of one simple thought./His goal was easy it would seem but filled with deep fraught./Cross the other side of tis distant path he wished,/ Yet he dare not move for the fear of being squished.

Suddenly as if most divine the street was promtly clear./ The walking man turned white just time for small Chicky to cheer!/ He knew he must be quick to complete this troublesome feat;/ Chicky must go forward swiftly as not to retreat.

With tentative steps he went on forward upon the black sea./ Still with uncertainty first he made one step,two,then three;/ He puffed out his chest with a pride and sure gladness of ease./ Oh, how far he had come no longer weak in the knees.

He could make it in the shortest of time across the line,/ But a monster came out of no where drunken on sweet wine./It jerked and swerved in every direction still coming closer./ Chicky lunged now for the dear life or it would be would be over.

Somewhere someone will ask, "Why did the chicken cross the road?"/ A question that has been pondered and has always been told./ Now we may never know as to why they should even try;/ Sadly to say the least poor Chicky was not the first to die.

*slash signifies the end of a line and a new double space signifies the beginning of a new stanza