Write me a country rock song about getting chicken

[Intro – twangy guitar riff, foot-stomping clap] Dust kicks up on the drop zone Four fools chasing a chicken throne [Verse 1 – steady rhythm guitar, bass line lock-in] Hodge calls the shots, picks the spot we land Eyes on the map, he’s got a master plan Border Patrol’s got the trigger finger tight Dropping foes before they even see the light Arrow bolts off, gone without a trace Trying to fight a war in a lonely place Swamp Donkey’s fumbling, but he’s holding on Toting that level four backpack all night long [Chorus – soaring guitar hook, harmonized vocals] Ten in a row, that’s the goal we chase Chicken dinners taste better with the whole damn place Bush to bush, we’re laying low Waiting for the last foe to show Foreskin grip we’re all trying to find Keeps our hands steady, keeps our aim on time [Verse 2 – slide guitar accent, snare roll punch] Hodge drops to prone, staring through stubble Scanning the tree line, looking for trouble He yells “I got a mini!” with a big old grin Swamp Donkey pipes up, “But what do you have for a gun?” We hit the dirt when we hear that vaajicle hum Hiding in the grass, trying not to come undone Arrow’s off again, picking a fight We’re all just praying he makes it through the night [Chorus – amplified guitar, layered harmonies] Ten in a row, that’s the goal we chase Chicken dinners taste better with the whole damn place Bush to bush, we’re laying low Waiting for the last foe to show Foreskin grip we’re all trying to find Keeps our hands steady, keeps our aim on time [Interlude – blistering electric guitar solo, driving drums] (Instrumental Solo) [Bridge – stripped-back acoustic guitar, soft vocals] Long game dinner, gets the blood flowing right Through our tired bones, through our tired eyes Swamp Donkey misses a shot, but we don’t mind We’re all in this together, till the end of the line [Chorus – full band, maximum energy, crowd sing-along vibe] Ten in a row, that’s the goal we chase Chicken dinners taste better with the whole damn place Bush to bush, we’re laying low Waiting for the last foe to show Foreskin grip we’re all trying to find Keeps our hands steady, keeps our aim on time [Outro – fading guitar, final foot-stomp clap] Dust settles down, we got the win Four fools grinning, chicken skin