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Please stop me if you’ve heard this plan,
(It’s ancient as the dickens)
Of how a very stingy man
Thought he’d get rich with chickens.
Said he, “I’ll not feed corn or wheat,
I can’t afford to buy it;
But sawdust should be good to eat,
I’ll get a hen and try it.”
So he mixed sawdust with some oats,
And bought a female chicken,
And she waxed fat, like thrifty shoats,
And did not die, nor sicken.
So day by day this thrifty guy,
Who should have had his jaw bust,
Cut down the oats, till bye and bye
He fed her naught but sawdust.
And she laid eggs, and all went well,
Until one day he set her,
And in three weeks she hatched out, well…
Her hatch could have been better.
For oh, my friends, from out those eggs,
Instead of domineckers,
There came two chickens with peg legs,
And thirteen…yes…woodpeckers!
The following appeared in the
April, 1921 issue of
The Poultry Item.
“These modern methods make me sick” Thus spake old Biddy Dominick “We used to please ourselves you bet, Folks took what fresh eggs they could get, But now we stay up half the night and lay our eggs by Mazda light. This culling also I protest, I’m getting old, I want to rest. Yet if in laying I grow lax I’ll be the next to get the axe.”
LOOK WHAT THEY’VE DONE TO THE DOMINICKER HEN
by Mike Snyder
You know we sure are lucky to be livin’ in the world today
All this modern technology has brought us a long long way.
Why even in the kitchens there’s been a lot of changes
The women went to usin’ microwaves instead of electric ranges.
Now I know that progress must go on even with the things we eat,
And science is tryin’ to improve upon the selection of our meat.
But some things can’t be improved on and to stress this point, my friend,
Let us dwell for just a moment on the dominicker hen.
I stopped off at the supermarket just the other day,
I was told to pick a few things up and then be on my way.
So I walked through them electric doors and I grabbed a shopping cart
And pulled out Sweetie’s grocery list and I took off like a dart.
Now I don’t usually do our shoppin’ so this was all new to me,
But I was really makin’ progress boys, already on isle three.
Chicken was the last thing on my list o’ gettin’ so,
I headed for the poultry section just as hard as I could go.
When I get there I stop my cart and I stood there for a while,
Amazed at all them chicken parts that was stacked up on that isle.
Use to, buyin’ a chicken really wasn’t all that hard,
But they done changed that feathered creature that used to walk out in our yard.
Look what they done to the dominicker chicken.
It’s boneless now, skinless too, no longer finger lickin’.
There’s chicken tetrazini, and chicken cordon bleu,
Chicken teriyaki, these are just to name a few.
Ah chicken is the comin’ thing and just to prove my point,
On almost ever corner now there’s a brand new chicken joint,
Bojangle’s, Colonel Sander’s, Popeye’s and Minnie Pearl’s.
Sunday’s chicken business is a catchin’ on all around the world.
See, used to we’d get chicken that was only done on special occasions,
But now you can get it seven days a week down at the gas station.
Sometimes it brings a tear to my eye when I think of our hallowed hen,
The way she’s been commercialized, it’s just a downright sin!
They’re cashin’ in on the dominicker and I know that fer a fact,
Why even the folks up North is tryin’ to get in on the act.
The dominicker has been disgraced and perhaps the lowest blow,
Is when the Yankees proclaim her wings, come from a buffalo.
Look what they’ve done to the dominicker chicken. It’s boneless now, skinless too, no longer finger lickin’. There’s chicken franks and chicken planks and fingers, well that’s absurd. If the dominicker had a finger, she’d shoot us all the bird!
SOME streaks o’ yeller sunshine an’ the bees a-buzzin’ round,
An’ here an’ there a dandeli’n a-peepin’ from the ground ;
The johnny-jump-ups smillin’ from the shelter of the sod —
A-liftin’ up the’r faces fer the kiss o’ nature’s God ;
The pussy-willers buddin’ ‘long the border of the brook,
An’ liverwort a-bloomin’ in the woodland’s mossy nook ;
The sparrowgrass a-sproutin’ ‘long the garden fence —
it’s then I like to hear the cackle of the Dominicker hen.
I like to set out on the porch — dressed in my workin’ clo’es —
An’ tilt my chair ag’inst the wall, an’ sun myself an’ doze;
I like to hear the catbird’s squawk, the sparrow’s cheerful cheep,
An’ see the fat ol’ shepherd dog curled up an’ fast asleep.
Seems like my poor ol’ heart thaws out like medder land, in spring,
An’ blooms an’ blossoms — praisin’ God fer life in ev’rything.
There’s other times o’ year, of course, but none as good as when —
The sunshine starts the cackle of the Dominicker hen.
All through the blust’ry winter months that hen sets mopin’ round
Upon the roost — an’ hardly puts a foot upon the ground;
But when the bluebird comes along, she gits on speakin’ terms
With all the other chickens — an’ with all the bugs an’ worms.
It’s then she fluffs her feathers, hunts a nest up in the hay,
An’ struts around an’ lays it full o’ eggs fer Easter day;
It’s then the world’s a-wakin’ from its slumber — an’ it’s then
I like to hear the cackle of the Dominicker hen.
If you know of any funny or interesting stories or poems related to Dominiques, please notify us.