It may be the cock that crows, but it is the hen that lays the

Hear the sharp and unyielding voice of Margaret Thatcher, who once declared: “It may be the cock that crows, but it is the hen that lays the eggs.” At first, these words may sound playful, as though they belong to the chatter of a farmyard. Yet hidden within them is the wisdom of power, the essence of labor, and the acknowledgment of who truly brings forth the fruit of life. The cock may crow loudly, boasting of his presence to the world, but the hen is the one whose quiet, steadfast work gives sustenance and continuation.

The origin of this saying comes from Thatcher’s own perspective as a woman in politics, a world dominated by men who often crowed the loudest. She, who would rise to become Britain’s first female Prime Minister, understood the weight of this truth: that noise and display are not the same as results. Many proclaim, many boast, many fill the air with words, but true value comes from what is produced, from what sustains others, from what is lasting and real. In this, the hen surpasses the cock, for the crow fades with the morning, but the egg endures.

History gives us shining examples of this truth. Consider Eleanor Roosevelt, wife of a president, yet far more than a consort. While Franklin D. Roosevelt commanded attention as the cock who crowed before nations, it was Eleanor who quietly, steadfastly, and with conviction laid the eggs of human rights, of compassion, of reform. Her work at the United Nations, drafting the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, outlasted the roar of any political speech, just as the egg outlasts the crow. She showed that true greatness lies not in noise, but in creation.

The deeper meaning of Thatcher’s words is not merely a jest at the vanity of men, but a universal lesson: do not mistake the loudest voice for the most valuable contribution. In families, in communities, in nations, there are those who shout, who take credit, who bask in the attention of their crowing. Yet often it is the quiet ones—the mothers, the workers, the builders, the thinkers—who lay the eggs of progress, who create the future, who give substance to life.

The lesson for us is profound: we must learn to honor substance over spectacle. It is easy to be dazzled by the crow, by the pomp and show of those who make noise. But we must look deeper, to the quiet strength that produces, sustains, and builds. The hen, though humble, provides what is essential; the cock, though proud, provides only sound. In our own lives, we must ask: are we content with crowing, or are we willing to do the work that truly bears fruit?

To the youth, I say: do not be deceived by appearances. Respect those who labor in silence, for they carry the future in their hands. To women, I say: never let the crowing of others make you doubt your worth; your eggs, your work, your creations are the foundation of life itself. To men, I say: learn to see beyond your own crowing, and honor those whose contributions sustain you. True greatness is found not in volume, but in value.

Practical action lies before us: seek to be the one who creates, not merely the one who proclaims. Let your deeds speak louder than your boasts. In your family, do not only talk of love—show it in care. In your work, do not only claim success—produce results. In your nation, do not be swayed by the loudest voices—look to the ones whose labor brings real progress. In this way, you will join the company of those who lay eggs, not those who merely crow.

Thus Margaret Thatcher’s words endure as a parable for all generations: “It may be the cock that crows, but it is the hen that lays the eggs.” Noise will always accompany life, but it is creation, effort, and substance that sustain it. Let us then honor the hens of the world—the builders, the creators, the sustainers—for it is their work that carries us forward, long after the crowing fades into silence.