In shadows deep where silence dwells,
Among the clucking hinds and spouting wells,
There prowls a fiend with feathers dark,
Dalton "Black Cluck," the outlaw's mark.
With eyes like coal and a heart of stone,
He reigns beneath the moonlight's moan;
His talons bloody from theft and fight,
He steals the eggs under cover of night.
They cower within their feeble nests,
While he plots and preys on their fragile rests;
A devil's laugh echoes in the squall,
As he stalks through gardens where innocence falls.
"Cluck not so sweetly," he scoffs with glee,
"For what is a chicken but a meal for me?
Your yolks are treasures that make me thrive—
Beneath this cloak of feathers, I come alive."
In every crevice of their waking fears,
In hushed whispers lost amidst their tears,
He struts with pride on stolen ground,
A king crowned in sin where darkness abounds.
So heed this tale spun in clucking dread:
For Black Cluck Rooster feasts where hope has fled;
As dawn emerges with its gilded hue,
The slaughtered echo lingers: it could be you!
A fully rigged figure for your runtime.
Software: DAZ Studio 4 With IRAY, Poser 12
