The Great Chicken War of 82

(Verse 1)
We went to the tavern for a cask of the best,
come to find out the map is gone from the captains chest,
A foul-tempered hen took the parchment for nesting,
And now the whole crew is on poultry-arresting!
(Chorus)
So sharpen your cutlass and load up the bread,
We’ll fight till the lot of chickens is dead!
With a cluck and a squawk and a peck in the eye,
Today is the day that the feathery die!
(Verse 2)
The Captain got cornered by three Rhode Island Reds,
They’re pecking the lice right off all of our heads.
The Cook’s in the rigging, he’s crying for mother,
While a rooster is making a meal of his brother!
(Chorus)
So sharpen your cutlass and load up the bread,
We’ll fight till the lot of chickens is dead!
With a cluck and a squawk and a peck in the eye,
Today is the day that the feathery die!
(Verse 3)
We fired the cannon, it went with a thud,
Now the deck is all covered in feathers and mud.
They’ve taken the galley, they’ve taken the wheel,
And we’re surrendering now to yesterday’s meal!
(Outro Bridge)
So listen to my warning and believe this tail,
If you go to war with the cocks, you just might fail.
Their strength is in numbers and their talons can stick,
If you’re thinking of going drinking, leave the map on the ship!

Rowdy nautical folk. Stomping boots, clinking mugs, accordion, and a rough, tavern-style group vocal melody