When I was in high school, I had a friend who's father was a chicken rancher (raised broiler chickens). Every few months, about 20 of us would get 5 or 6 nights work catching chickens. Good money; I made over $100/night for about 3 hours work each night. Bad stench; required to leave clothes outside and be hosed off before coming in to the house.
I was born down south on a chicken[2] farm
Near Nashville, Tennessee.
T'weren't nobody there
But a sky full of air,
Seventeen billions chickens and me!
And then one day
I said, "Hey, hey, hey!"
Think I'll do a little LSD[1].
It blew my mind,
I got real kind,
And I set my chickens free!
There were chickens in the cabbages,
Chickens in the cord,
Chickens in the cauliflower,
Chickens in the barn.
There were chickens driving Cadillacs
To Washington, DC
When I set my chickens free!
(I read that poem in high school in Abbie Hoffman's "Steal This Book"[3] and remember it to this day.)
[1] Dear mods, DEA, etc. This is in no way an endorsement of illegal drugs.
[2] Just assume that "chicken" here is a metaphor for "Thunderbird". I wish I had seventeen billion Thunderbirds, although I would prefer they were not piled atop me.
[3] There's a funny story associated with that book.