Another on the Same

In SIMILE if I may shine agen-
Thus have I seen a fond old hen
With one poor miserable chick,
Bustling about a farmer's yard;
Now on the dunghill laboring hard,
Scraping away through thin and thick,
Flutt'ring her feathers--making such a noise!
Cackling aloud such quantities of joys,
As if this chick, to which her egg gave birth,
Was born to deal prodigious knocks,
To shine the Broughton of game cocks,
And kill the fowls of all the earth!