Cockle doodle doo, it’s time for chicken
Cockle doodle doo, it’s time for a feast
Eat a ninety-piece bucket, you can tell
He’s been to Clucking Bell
The chicken is a bird with a tiny brain
So we assume he doesn’t feel any pain
We shrink their heads and we breed them fast
Six wings, forty breasts, then they’re gassed
Cockle doodle doo, we’re psychotic crazies
Cockle doodle doo, factory farming’s insane
We denied it all before our stock price fell
Come down to Clucking Bell
Man: Cluckin’ Bell! If you enjoyed it, the chicken didn’t die in vain!