Funky Fried Chicken Blues

If you get the chance to visit Chicago, make sure to stop by Harold’s Fried Chicken Shack for the best, mouth watering, tasty bird there is in the midwest.  Beautiful Lovie loved that bird, and so did I.  My cousin once greeted me as I got off a plane at O’Hare with the question, “You want some Harold’s don’t you?”  Now that same cousin eats prime rib.  My, how we have come up. But for my money, it’s all about the bird.  I can’t get enough, so I wrote a poem for my favorite food.  I’m sorry, but you’re so tasty. I want to eat you NOW.


Funky Fried Chicken Blues

Did you hear the news?

Chicken’s got the blues

Can’t even buy a pair of new shoes

Folks follow them around

Chase and hound

Walk or fly

They’re bound to fry

The cluck

Bird’s got no luck

Heard ‘em say,  “Don’t eat me, Chuck.”


Got something for you

Make you sing

Don’t you want to live clean?

Then don’t be so mean

No matter which came first

He made us all

Us Chicken’s, got to stand tall

Copyright © 2011 Kimberly Yarbrough Carpenter


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