Maybe they should stop wearing those coonskin caps.
I like bald eagles. They taste just like chicken.
Thyme—keep on snippin’, snippin’, snippin’
Into this stewed bird.
Time to be flippin’, flippin’, flippin’
This barbecued bird.
I’m gonna fry up an eagle,
So tasty.
Fry up an eagle,
Sip spirits preprandially.
I’m gonna fry up an eagle. . .
No gravy
Or pork—wallows, no ablution.
Feed my facie,
Not prima, but where I eat.
Shoot to kill ‘em—
I mean eagles, not skeet.
Hound retrieves ‘em,
Brings me back the treat,
Bow-bow barks in profusion.
I’m gonna fry up that eagle,
So tasty.
Fry up that eagle
Or spit-stick it handily.
I’m gonna slice up that eagle
Hastily.
Dining prompts its diminution.
I keep on dippin’, dippin’, dippin’
Into this stewed bird,
Fry juice is drippin’, drippin’, drippin’
Out from that chewed bird.
I keep on wishin’, wishin’, wishin’
That I’d bagged two birds.
Wearing a pancake on your head is rumored to protect you from both Bald Eagles and Zombies.
I wonder if “unpalin” is their mayor?
Silly me for believing Alaskans knew how to deal with living in Alaska. Hey, a fire hose worked once, so do it again. Fire off a few shots and make noise before they get their nests built. Fireworks, too. Don’t come into town smelling of whatever you just butchered. Chop down any tree within a block of the PO. Don’t leave garbage around. Once you let them nest, they’ll come back the next year.
We should have listened to Ben Franklin, turkeys would not act like this.