The ways of ordinary fowls
You must know they had clean forsaken;
And if every Cock and Hen in Spain
Had their example taken,
Why then—the Spaniards would have had
No eggs to eat with bacon.
These blessed Fowls, at seven years end,
In the odor of sanctity died:
They were carefully pluck'd and then
They were buried, side by side.
And lest the fact should be forgotten
(Which would have been a pity),
'Twas decreed, in honor of their worth,
That a Cock and Hen should be borne thenceforth,
In the arms of that ancient City.
Two eggs Saint Hen had laid—no more—
The chickens were her delight;
A Cock and Hen they proved,
And both, like their parents, were virtuous and white.
The last act of the Holy Hen
Was to rear this precious brood; and when
Saint Cock and she were dead,
This couple, as the lawful heirs,
Succeeded in their stead.
They also lived seven years,
And they laid eggs but two,
From which two milk-white chickens
To Cock and Henhood grew;
And always their posterity
The self-same course pursue.
Not one of these eggs ever addled,
(With wonder be it spoken!)
Not one of them ever was lost,
Not one of them ever was broken.
Sacred they are; neither magpie nor rat,
Snake, weasel, nor marten approaching them:
And woe to the irreverent wretch
Who should even dream of poaching them!
Thus then is this great miracle
Continued to this day;
And to their Church all Pilgrims go,
When they are on the way;
And some of the feathers are given them;
For which they always pay.
No price is set upon them,
And this leaves all persons at ease;
The Poor give as much as they can,
The Rich as much as they please.