A part II entry to the air of "The Dawning Of The Day"

It's four o'clock on the village green and the sky begins to glow
As the sun prepares to re-emerge, the cock prepares to crow
Strutting proudly from his roost, eyes peeled for that first ray
That ushers in fresh daylight at the dawning of the day

But unbeknownst to Chanticleer, his morning songs of praise
Awaken all the village, who, from lack of sleep are dazed
And while some quite like old Chanticleer to crow with vim and pride
Yet more would like to see that bloody chicken southern fried

And so, a hooded figure lurks beneath the willow tree
Taking aim at Chanticleer, he's on his bended knee
And as the rooster takes a breath to greet the rising sun
The hooded figure pulls the trigger of his silenced gun

No more Chanticleer will rouse us with his cock-a-doodle-doo
There's been an air of sadness 'bout the place this day or two
But I hear that the village shop has done well from the shock
For there's a sign up in the window "Sold out of alarm clocks"