The Pecking Order

The Pecking Order

I'll describe the pecking order,
If you're thinking 'what the heck?'
It's all about who you would
And who you wouldn't peck.

Somehow, putting others down
Makes certain types feel good.
So that's why there are kinds o' kids
Who'll peck till they draw blood.

If you can peck anyone
And no one can peck you,
Then you're top of the pecking order,
So, cock-a-doodle-doo!

But if you're at the bottom,
Then your whole life is wrecked.
You can either struggle your way up
Or live with getting pecked.

So we go 'round pecking each other,
An uncivil little flock,
And we all fear the leader -
Who's an evil twisted cock.

The cock pecks every one of us
To make sure he's on top.
An' no one utters protest
Or dares tell him to stop.

I'd like to tell him off, with a -
'Shut your bloody beak!'
But if I tried to say that
All I'd get out is a puny squeak.

I'm right down at the bottom,
Aye, it's clear for all to see
'Cause I just won't peck no one,
But still everyone pecks me.

So what am I supposed to do?
Should I accept me fate?
Or should I inflict on others
Something that I really hate?

Nar, I don't like this system,
It's really not my style.
I'd rather sit here quietly
And when they peck, I'll smile.

You can battle the pecking order,
All worked up and panic stricken,
But I'm not pecking no one, me,
'Cause I am not a chicken.