Over the mountain and through the woods,
way down where the river rolls,
I pilot my flying chicken tank
delivering eggs to Trolls.

Pecky beak that clicks and clacks,
eggcelerator turned to the max.
Metal drumsticks thump and grind,
while eggs plop out it's 'fowl' behind.
                                              
Missing my daily delivery
is a risk I dare not take.
Those fearsome beasts are best occupied
when they don't have bellyache.

It was once believed Trolls only ate kids
but that's not completely true.
If I give them fresh eggs all day long
they won't bother me or you.

I stick steadfastly to my route
in sunshine, rain and cold.
I have the most dangerous job in the world,
well that's what I've been told.

When I hear the roar of angry tums
or the clink of empty bowls,
I pilot my flying chicken tank
delivering eggs to Trolls.

If regular meals of eggs are missed
the outcome will be dire.
It won't take much for Trolls to see red
and their patience to expire.

Can you imagine what would happen
if stomachs were left empty?
There'd be roaming clans of cranky Trolls
on the hunt for you and me!

Gnarling gnashers and cut throat claws
are terrible to behold.
I have the most dangerous job in the world,
well that's what I've been told.

Swooping and dodging big angry mouths
and eyes that burn like coals,
I pilot my flying chicken tank
delivering eggs to Trolls.

Pecky beak that clicks and clacks,
eggcelerator turned to the max.
Metal drumsticks thump and grind,
while eggs plop out it's 'fowl' behind.

Eggs are an amazing invention,
it's no wonder Trolls are keen.
Mixed with big dollops of mayonnaise,
poached, coddled or Florentine.

Whether hard or soft-boiled with soldiers,
scrambled, baked or fried,
I must keep giving eggs to Trolls
that's a fact you can't deny.

I'll carry on through thick and thin,
till I'm wizened, grey and old.
I have the most dangerous job in the world,
well that's what I've been told.

There's nothing else I'd rather do,
this is my ultimate goal,
to pilot my flying chicken tank
delivering eggs to Trolls.


Poem ©2013 Meagan Munroe 
Illustration ©2013 John Shelley            

It seemed such a brilliant idea,
A wing clanking beaky delight,
From a crack pot and crazed hengineer,
Came The Hen-Plane-Chicken Of Flight.

It creaked and it groaned and it heaved,
As it lumbered up into the sky,
And I’m quite sure that no one believed
It would actually stay there and fly.

It was all going really quite well,
Until something appeared by its leg
And out of its bottom there fell,
An enormous and shiny great egg.

It hurtled to earth like a bomb!
On the ground they all scattered and ran,
‘Til the hengineer quickly dashed home
For a giant expandable pan.

She held up the great plate of steel,
And averted a yolk splatted fate,
For instead of an eggy ordeal,
They had breakfast for seventy eight.

Poem ©2013 Kathryn Evans
Illustration ©2013 John Shelley