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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.
Henery's Dad:
Well, Henery, you're a big boy now. We'd better have a little talk.
Henery Hawk:
Okay, Pop. What do you wanna know?
Henery's Dad:
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!
Foghorn Leghorn:
You lose something - I say, did you lose something, kid?
Henery Hawk:
I'm a chicken hawk. I'm after my first chicken.
Foghorn Leghorn:
A chicken, eh? I'm a horse - I say, I'm a horse myself.
[Trots and whinnies]
Foghorn Leghorn:
But I've seen a chicken - I say, I've seen a chicken around here - Pay attention, sonny - somewhere. Chicken? Chicken. Oh, yes!
[Points at dog]
Foghorn Leghorn:
There's a chicken - I say, there's a chicken for you - Boy doesn't pay attention. Nice four legged chicken. Go on over - I say, go on over and taste him, kid. You'll like him.
Henery Hawk:
Are you coming quietly, or do I have to muss ya up?
Henery Hawk:
[Dragging the horse, the dog and Foghorn Leghorn out of the barn] One of these...I say one of these, has got to be a chicken!
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