Walky Talky Hawky1946

Henery Hawk:
Gee, Pop. I don't know what's the matter with me. The trouble's in my tummy. I crave something and I don't know what it is.

George K Chicken Hawk:
Well, Henery, you're a big boy now. We'd better have a little talk.

Henery Hawk:
Okay, Pop. What do you wanna know?

George K Chicken Hawk:
You see, Henery, your mother and I are outcasts. Hated and hunted because of what we are... chicken hawks. And you - you, Henery - you're a chicken hawk too. And like all chicken hawks, you crave to eat... a chicken.

Henery Hawk:
Eat a chicken? Is that bad? That's for me. Here chick, chick, chick, chick, chick! Here chick, chick, chick, chick, chick!