I came to Australia as a kid.
We were dirt poor – something we hid;
Supply of eggs is what this is about -
Bought a small baby hen to help us out.
Protein the necessity, eggs the need.
Had to give her a name, easy to heed -
Karen seemed right, though little did we know
In future the name would have its own show.
So she grew but no eggs were in sight;
Obvious now her gender wasn’t right.
Seller guaranteed the hen Dad called for,
And so Dad took \'her\' - it made him so sore.
Dad was so sore after all those hopes -
The absence of eggs provoked some jokes:
(Term constipation no wish to evoke -
Merely about Dad’s soreness as he awoke).
Kids, it’s with words they really like to play;
Meaning’s not important at end of day -
Little kids full of ingenuity
Came up with what could be termed a beauty.
Dad being so sore the pathway became clear…
Or rather a hybrid name popped up here.
Now you see where this is going? You bet!
Combine ‘Sore’ (Dad) and Karen; and what did they get?
Was really not far off playing scrabble -
You had to get rid of ‘Kar, but that was no trouble.
So the sounds made it and retained the ‘Sore’
Behold ‘Soren’ came out and made a score.
And now Soren crowed all day and all night.
The neighbors complained of this vocal blight -
The metaphor’s clear in Cock a doodle doo.
(We got us some earplugs, between me and you).
Postscript:
Today ‘Karen’ means rudeness, always right;
While Soren remains unfailingly polite.