T'owd brahn hen, written by Gerald Short and recorded on Map of Derbyshire by Mckram Wakes (sung by John Tams)

T'OWD BRAHN HEN
Gerald Short

Ee sez me mother, to me and me brother,
        Will you kill that owd brahn hen?
For she eats more oats than Jackson's goats,
        And she'll not lay again.
For times is hard and we've not much cash,
        So we'll have her in the pot.
So off to find that owd brahn hen,
        Me and me brother shot.

Well we chased her together, but we couldn't catch a feather,
        For she were a wily bod.
She hopped around upon the ground,
        Like fleas on our owd dog.
Well we catched her in the yard at last,
        My how she scrat and fought,
You'd have thought it were an eagle not,
        An owd brahn hen we'd caught.

Well all in a dither I says how shall we kill her,
        And me brother says, I knows.
Me mates I saw kill fowls before,
        And this is how it goes.
So he grabs her by the neck and turns,
        A couple of times or three,
Then tweaks it hard and turns and smiles,
        As if to say now see.

Now all in a hurry and feathers in a flurry,
        He's dropped her to the ground,
Where to our surprise, before our eyes,
        The funniest thing we found.
This fowl stood up, unscrewed her neck,
        And gave a strangled cry,
Then blinkin' 'ard ran down the yard,
        And out of sight did fly.

Now it's strange to relate and I know it's right,
        Next morning in our shed,
That bald necked hen has laid again,
        And waited to be fed.
So if your old bod won't do her job,
        You mun heed now what I say.
Just tweak her neck and then by heck,
        You'll get fresh eggs each day.