The Not So Divine Crisis

The little rooster's soul, it ailed Trothed as he was, his 'doodle' failed His morning mantra didn't flow The couped-up cock just couldn't crow A grounded bird with buried head Most free-range chicks mistook for dead His midlife funk affected all 'Cause the Sun Goddess didn't get her wake-up call 'Twas in this hour dark and dire The Gods, they grasped the cock's desire Empathy had they for his sitch But no clue how to scratch his itch They understood the why and when "His quill needs dipping now and then" They'd just have to hook up the rooster right With some goddess who'd be willing to shed more than light "Kanayama's mettle isn't all that warm She won't exhibit her lodestones in their raw form Her iron will, it will not waver" "Tatsuta truly has one fine veneer But she'll only let her golden gown fall once a year A brief affair, too cool to savor" "Benzai-ten's last two hands are locked in prayer She's oh, so occupied, t'is but her soul she'll bare Exposing her puritan flesh for none but her savior" "Fuji, she is sometimes known to flash But it'd be rare to see her air more than her hot, white ash Who'll do the little rooster a little favor?" "How about luscious Uzume? She can get our little feathered friend to sing She'll be such a breath of fresh air It'll really get his little weathervane to swing She'll do a little dance Then she might do a little bit of song But five hundred yen says she won't keep Those little silk panties on for very long" Cock-a-doodle Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo "She'll take the job despite the size She'll get that downcast cock to rise She'll treat him to her very best Very soon we'll all be feasting on white thigh and breast" Now 'Zume sang the silkworm ode She urged the rooster to unload Stroked his pecker once or twice Thawed his calloused claws of ice His paltry little soul, he searched For what seemed years, the bird, he perched Below, a red hot chakra burned As his spitted giblets slowly turned He came out of his pious trance She squirmed inside her tantric pants Pulled and peeled her sushi fruit The fowl, he up and followed suit They got down on both twos and fours They buffed and shined her bamboo floors Despite the mythic thorns, he chose To pluck that sweet, pink Tokyo rose Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo Her cockle, did, his noodle, do When dawn cracked, he felt good as new His raucous crowing woke the dead And the Sun Goddess, finally, she got out of bed