Fable of the Ducks & Hens

The following famous tale by George Lincoln Rockwell is among the many utterances which caused him to be denounced as an “anti-hennite.” Under federal legislation which some have proposed, he could have been charged with a “hate crime” for expressing such “bigoted” thoughts. Inasmuch as we feel that the message contained herein to be as relevant and important as ever, we’ll take our chances in republishing it. Any relation to known groups and events, past or present, is purely intentional.

MANY, MANY YEARS AGO, when animals could speak,
A wondrous thing the ducks befell; their tale is quite unique.

Down by a pond dwelt all these ducks, ten thousand at the least.
Their duckish joys were undisturbed by any man or beast.

One day down near the entrance gate there was an awful din.
A hundred hens all out of breath were begging to come in.

“Oh, let us in!” these poor birds cried, “before we do expire!
‘Tis only by the merest inch that we escaped the fire!

Their feathers burnt, their combs adroop, they were the saddest sight.
They’d run a hundred miles or more, all day and then all night

“Come in! Come in!” the ducks all quacked, “For you our hearts do bleed.
We’ll share our happy lot with you; just tell us what you need!”

And so these poor bedraggled hens amongst the ducks moved in.
“For after all,” the ducks declared, “we’re sisters ‘neath the skin.”

BEFORE TOO MANY MONTHS had lapsed, the hens were good as new.
They sent for all their rooster friends, and those were welcomed, too.

To please their hosts, these chickens tried to waddle and to quack.
To simulate the duckish ways, they quickly learned the knack.

This pleased the flock of ducks, because it gratified their pride.
… But hear my tale, and learn how they got taken for a ride.

The ducks, it seemed, spent all their time in fixing up the place,
in growing food and building homes and cleaning every space.

They asked the hens what they would do to earn their daily bread.
“We’ll teach and write and entertain, and buy and sell,” they said.

And so these hens began to teach the baby ducks and chicks.
They traded food and eggs and things, with many clever tricks.

They wrote great books and put on shows—of genius they’d no lack.
It wasn’t long till chickens owned the Duckville Daily Quack.

ONE DAY A MOTHER DUCK, who took her ducklings to the lake,
was flabbergasted when one said, “A swim I will not take!”

“Why ducklings always swim!” she gasped. “It’s what you’re built to do!”
Like bunnies hop, and crickets chirp, and cows most always moo!”

“You’re NUTS!” her son replied. “That stuff is all old hat!
It’s wrong for birds to swim … besides, it’s damn cold on my prat!

“Oh fie!” the mother duck exclaimed. “You’re talking like a fool!”
Up quacked the other ducks and said, “He’s right! We learned it at school.”

“Such things must stop!” the mother cried. “Those hens can’t teach
such lies! For sheer ingratitude and nerve, I’m sure this takes the prize!”

… But she was wrong, for even then the hens did thump the tub,
demanding they be let into the Duckville Swimming Club.

“But you don’t swim!” the ducks exclaimed. “To join, you should not care.”
“That’s not the point!” the hens replied. “To exclude us is unfair!”

THE YOUNGER DUCKS, who’d been to school, agreed right there and then,
“To keep them out is bigotry! ‘Twould just be ANTI-HEN!”

Outnumbered by the younger ducks, the old ducks soon did lose.
They agreed to let the hens all in, if they would pay the dues.

That night the Duckville Daily Quack contained this banner spread:

Down at the Duckville Gaiety, the young set laughed with glee
at cracks about “old fuddy ducks” in burlesque repartee.

Next day the hens were at the club; a petition they’d sent ’round.
They objected to the Swimming Fund with fury and with sound.

“You use our dues to fix the pond, to keep it neat and trim.
And this is wrong,” they said, “because you know we do not swim!”

“GOD HELP US!” cried a wise old duck. “These chickens have gone mad!”
We’ll take this thing to court, by George, and justice will be had!”

But when they went up to the judge, imagine their dismay!
chicken judge decreed that they a heavy fine must pay!

“Minorities must have their rights!” the judge declared right then.
“To use hen’s dues to fix the pond is very anti-hen!”

Once more the Duckville Daily Quack emblazoned ‘cross the page:

IN DUCKVILLE’S CHURCH on Sunday morn the preacher spoke
these words: “Discrimination’s got to stop! Remember, we’re all birds!”

The wisest duck in all the town sat down in black despair.
“I’ll write a book,” he thought, “and then this madness I will bare!”

“Let swimmers swim, let hoppers hop, let each one go his way.
Let none coerce a fellow bird!” was what he had to say.

“‘Twas wrong to force the hens to swim, so here’s the problem’s crux.
It’s just as bad for hens to try to chickenize our ducks!”

I can’t print that,” the printer said. “‘Twill put me in a mess!
My shop is mortgaged to the hens—The chickens own my press!”

This worried duck then tried to warn his friends by speech and pen,
but young ducks fresh from school just jeered, “he’s a vicious anti-hen!”

NOW, UP THE STREAM a little way was Gooseville on the lake.
The hens had come to Gooseville, too, but the geese were more awake.

When the hens began to spoil the young and Gooseville’s laws to flout,
the geese rose up in righteous wrath and simply threw them out.

Of course, you know where they all ran— On Duckville they converged.
“We’ve got to take these refugees,” was what the ducks all urged.

The Duckville Daily Quack declared: “These geese will stop at naught!
They plan to conquer all the world! Atrocities they’ve wrought!”

“That’s right!” the young ducks all agreed. “We’ll help our fellow birds!
These geese have plans to conquer us! We’ve read the Quack’s own words!”

bedraggled pack. … And every hen took up a job on Duckville’s Daily Quack.

When Duckville’s mayor’s term was up, the Quack put up its duck.
A vain and stupid duck he was, a veritable cluck!

But when he praised the wild young ducks and cursed the evil geese,
the Quack declared he was “all wise.” His praise would never cease.

The hens chipped in to help this cluck, give grain away for free.
The old ducks sadly shook their heads—the writing they could see.

And, sure enough, this stupid duck, he was elected mayor.
From this point on, the Duckville ducks, they never had a prayer.

We’ll wipe them off the map!” While Duckville slept, the scheming hens
for Gooseville set a trap.

They called the geese by filthy names; they fill their pond with sticks.
They helped the weasels catch the geese, and other hennish tricks.

The geese got mad and threw some rocks. “It’s WAR!” the Quack announced.
“We ducks must fight those evil geese, ’til they’ve been soundly trounced.

The ducks (who knew not of the tricks indulged in by the mayor)
were filled with “patriotic zeal” and pitched right in for fair!

Now, when the ducks had whipped the geese, the mayor called for “Retreat!”
“Our Henville friends should really take Gooseville’s big main street!”

and beat the geese. They prayed for “peace” but organized the
Henville Armed Police!”

They drained the Gooseville swimming pond; they de-goosified the schools.
They wrung the neck of Gooseville’s mayor on lately, made-up rules!

They founded a council of the hens— United Birds” the name.
The other birds who joined the thing did not perceive the game.

No sooner had they set this up, than they announced their plan
to seize up Swanville as a home for all their hennish clan.

They took a vote amongst the hens, and everyone approved!
“Swanville was for hens!” they said, “way back before we moved.”

And so, they kicked the swans all out, with Duckville’s help and power.
And Duckville couldn’t understand why swans on them turned sour.

BY THIS TIME, DUCKVILLE WAS A MESS; the young ducks had
gone mad. They stole and laughed at truth and law—they went completely bad.

The hens were selling loco weed in every nasty den.
But ducks who dared to mention is were labeled “ANTI-HEN.”

The hens all preached of “tolerance”; they invoked the “Golden Rule.”
But they subsidized the indigent, the greedy and the fool.

At last the very dumbest ducks began to smell a rat.
“This mayor is no good!” they cried, “and we’ll soon fix that!”

But the hens had planned for even thisA candidate they had,
whom even wise old ducks believed just never could be bad.

This hen-tool duck had whipped the geese; a soldier duck was he.
Although the hens had set him up, the ducks all thought him free.

This hen-tool duck got elected through ignorance and greed,
through hennish lies in press and speech, through bribes of “chicken feed.”

of shame, until the mayor ran the town in nothing else but name.

They pumped the swimming pool all dry; they taught the ducks to crow.
While duckish numbers dwindled, the hens began to grow.

The hens stirred up the happy cows from out the piney wood,
to fight and mix and marry ducks in the name of “brotherhood.”

Things got so bad, that fifty ducks (who knew the days gone by)
took up their wives and children and decided that they’d fly.

They flew through storm and tempest; they froze and many died.
But on they drove, until at last a lovely lake they spied.

They settle down exhausted, but soon went straight to work
to build and clear and cultivate— no danger did they shirk.

NOW, AFTER MANY YEARS OF TOIL, this little band had grown.
The fields around were full of grain from seed that they had sown.

The first ducks now were long since dead; their struggles long had ceased.
Through hard work and suffering, their joys had been increased.

One day down near the entrance gate, there was an awful din.
A hundred hens, all out of breath, were begging to come in.

“Oh, let us in!” these poor birds cried, “before we do expire!
‘Tis only by the merest inch … ”

This epic really has no end, because no matter how you fight ’em,
those hens will show up EVERY TIME—and so … ad infinitum.

Printed copies available with SASE or in bulk quantity

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