WheNe'er I Feed The Barnyard Folk My Gentle Soul Is Vexed; My Sensibilities Are Torn And I Am Sore Perplexed. The Rooster So Politely Stands While Waiting For His Food, But When I Feed Him, What A Change! He Then Is Rough And Rude. He Crowds His Gentle Wives Aside Or Pecks Them On The Head; Sometimes I Think It Would Be Best If He Were Never Fed. And So I Often Stand For Hours Deciding Which Is Right' To Impolitely Have Enough, Or Starve And Be Polite.