Nun’s Priest

Once upon a time
There was a farmer who died
And left a widow
With a farmyard filled with animals
And this is the story
Of their time

Okay, listen close, I’ll tell you how the story goes
This one starts on a farm, with a poor widow
Animal husbandry was how she won the meat
That she put on the table for her young ones to eat
With no man to bring home the bacon, or take a load off
Her shoulder blades and carry weight when her bones were achin’
She was alone, with her daughters and her dairy cows
Seven cluckin’ chickens and a rooster who was very proud
His name was Chauntecleer, but let’s call him Chauncy
He walked with a strut, and his style was kinda cocky
Like Snoop Doggy Dogg, except he was a cock though
A literal cock, with a bright red cox-comb
A figurative cock too, he did what cocks do
And so would you, with seven chickens to give cock to
So don’t be player hatin’ on the roosters or the rap stars
All they do is crow and pimp the chickens in the backyard
And chickens only come once the method is perfected
‘Cause they want to hatch chicks with skills and work ethic
So Chauncy was up to crow at five every mornin’
Cock-a-doodle-doo! He had more wives than a Mormon
But one was his favorite, and she was his main chick
Pertelote, Purdy for short, the most curvaceous
Bootylicious chicken with the juiciest breasts and thighs
Whenever she swished her hips by, he was hypnotized
Yeah, the mischievous type, plus kind and generous
Wicked sense of humor with a rare high intelligence
And he was into it, plus his singin’ talents
Kinda ruffled up her feathers, which kept things in balance
So he was all for her, and she was all for him
Though he still did his duty with his other six hens

And that’s where the story begins, in the chicken coop
Every night after dark they would all sit and roost
And one night, with Purdy next to him on his perch
Chauncy started moanin’ and groanin’ and waking up his birds
Like “No... no... keep it away
I’m afraid... I don’t wanna get eaten today!"
And Purdy shook him and he woke up fast and screamed
Like “Buck-uck!” And she said “Relax, it’s just a bad dream”
And Chauncy said “I love you, Purdy, you’re the perfect chick
But this was more than just a dream, please, interpret it!
Okay, listen, I was walkin’ in the yard
And I saw this beast; it was kinda like a dog
But smaller, reddish brown, with a pointy snout
And bushy tail; that’s what I was moaning about
It was staring right at me, and its eyes were beady
And I just had this feeling like it was trying to eat me!”
And Purdy said “Yeah, um, that’s called a fox
And it’s kinda common knowledge that foxes eat cocks
And you want me to interpret your dream? What does it mean?
It means you’re acting like a pussy if you ask me
C’mon, grow a pair, it’s just us, there’s no one here
And it’s tough to stay in love with a wuss who’s always scared
Look, there’s nothing to fear from nightmares, the monsters
Are a manifestation of your subconscious; it’s nonsense
Now stop this... Wait, maybe your vision is true
It reveals something deep: the inner bitch in you
It’s probably just some undigested snacks in your abdomen
So get off your ass and take a laxative."
Chauncy wasn’t mad at his chick, he just sighed
And said: “Honey, dreams are how we see with our third eye
Most religions and ancient traditions treat them as premonitions
Inner visions, we need to listen to our intuitions
I just wish you knew what it meant, ‘cause I don’t
Dreams have meaning in Greek myths, and in the Bible
Joseph even dreamed the future of Pharoah’s people
Why do you think they call it ‘The Technicolor Dreamcoat’?
And she looked kinda sly as she rolled her eyes
And said “Too bad the gods always give such vague signs
Instead of specific information... Anyhoo
You’d better watch out for foxes, babe, like chickens do”
And he cocked his head sideways, and that was that
Chauncy forgot about his dream and got his swagger back
And said “I’m just happy when I’m beside you
Except, this perch is too narrow for me to ride you
So let’s take this outside, boo. Cock-a-doodle-doo!
And his song kinda put her in the mood too
And they flew into the yard to warm in the morning sun
And he feathered her forty times before he was done

And a few months later, what do you know
Russel the fox crept into the yard slow
He’d been watching the chickens for weeks, biding his time
And now he hid in the weeds until they were right beside him
A grinning assassin in the grass, his teeth flashin’
With murder on his mind, both a hunger and a passion
He could feel need to kill, some call it evil
But ask yourself, does a fox have free will?
Could he choose to just be gone, if he wanted
To prove the dream wrong, and find some greens to feed on?
Or was the fox compelled by his physical make-up
By his nature, to chase the chickens and try to taste one?
Who knows what goes on under a fox’s fur?
Epistemology is best left to philosophers
I’ll just tell you about this fox, now he was a gentleman
Chauntecleer caught a glimpse of him, and felt adrenaline
Rushin’, but before he could run Russel hushed him
And said “Hey, relax, I’m your friend. I can be trusted
I only came here for one thing, and it’s not chicken dumplings
I want to hear a performance from someone who loves to sing
I heard your father sing once, mmh, what a voice!
You could almost smell the scent of the hens becoming moist
He sang on tip-toes, with his eyes closed
And his neck stretched out, like Battery Farm Idol
And he always left the audience in awe when he was done
So I gotta know, are you your father’s son?”

Chauntecleer was all ears, all his fears
Were gone, this was all he ever wanted to hear
He felt like his father was near, and he would do him proud
He closed his eyes and he stretched his neck out
And sang: “Cock-a-doodle-ackkk!
The fox had grabbed him by the neck and started runnin’ fast
He twisted his head and threw the rooster’s body on his back
The chickens stared cluckin’, and Purdy was the loudest of ‘em
Screaming “Fox! Fox! Someone come and help my husband!
Buck-buck-buck-buckuck!" The sound of a bunch of hens
Brought the widow runnin’ so fast that she jumped the fence
Her daughters came after, and the neighbors with their dogs too
Barkin’ and yappin’ – half the village was in hot pursuit
But the fox was faster, and he had a massive head start
Chauntecleer was terrified, but he tried to think smart
He said, “Aack, you’ve done it, we’re almost at the woods now
They’ll never catch us, and you still have time for put downs
You can turn around and stick your tongue out and mock them
And say ‘Ha ha, I’ve got your cock’ and trash talk them!”
And the fox smiled and curled his black lips back
And turned around and opened his mouth to do just that
And when as his jaws unlocked, Chauncy took his only chance
And flew into a tree, and perched on the lowest branch
And Russel the fox looked up with his mouth open
And his voice was soft-spoken, when he said “I was jokin’
When I took you by the throat and brought you into the woods
I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you; my intentions were good!
Come down and I can explain everything!”
And Chauntecleer laughed, like, “Why, you wanna get me to sing?
Here: Cock-a-doodle-do! Here come the villagers!”
And the fox ran off with a bitter curse

And they brought the cock back to the farm, back to his duties
Crowin’ at the break of dawn, and gettin’ up in chickens booties
And debating metaphysics with his lady when they wake up
And that’s how the story ends – peace to Aesop
Now let this be a lesson you can have to keep
Don’t let them gas you, and never listen to flattery
Yeah let this be a lesson you can have to keep
Get your pride in check, and never listen to flattery

Never listen to flattery
Whatever kind of person you are
Whether you’re fox-like
Like a record label A & R
Or whether you’re chicken-like
You know, struttin’ around, peckin’ the ground
Or whether you’re rooster-like
With your chest out proud
It’s all the same to me
Just keep your wits about you
And never listen to flattery


from The Canterbury Tales Remixed, released April 15, 2012
Produced, Mixed and Mastered by Mr. Simmonds


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Baba Brinkman New York, New York

Science rapper and inventor of several novel hip-hop variants. Canadian transplant to New York. Pathological optimist.

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