SOMEDAY I'll trigger the bastard who shot Tom.
In my time I done it plenty of times.

After the massacre of '04 I been anxious
to get some of the rats who prey on turkeys.

Turkeys. How incredibly stupid they can be at times.
Any SOB with a box call going, ''Kee-yuk, kee-yuk, kee-yuk,''

and my boys are practically shoving cornbread
up their own patooties and lying down on a platter.

In the end we turkeys have our justice.
They get it through birds like me.

It took years to learn to fire a gun with a beak,
but now when they come after us, I go after them.

The cops drag me to jail to explain.
They investigate my past, check my snood.

The papers call me a kill-crazy poult,
but I do my best to help the newsboys out
and I'm usually good for a quote.