On the side lane
The hanging naked ducks on strings
They were tied up nicely hanging out to dry
Under the hot morning sun
The smoke of the kitchen
The dust particles falling into its naked skins
The hanging ducks paraded on the strings
Cars revving by walkers passing through
The naked ducks all in a row
Nicely tied up hanging out to dry
With the hot sun no shame or lie
“You want me pay me to taste”
The 'pimping' cooks
They know their trade
They hardly pay them a wink
When time is done, the ducks back on the trays
The colors on the skin
Finally hanging up with roasted flavored color
The make up done to entice customers
This time the 'pimping' cooks will carve its shapes
Pay your money
Forget how it was done
The hanging ducks in the open
Of kitchen soot; of dust and particles
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