Cock-a-doodle-doo! What, what.

Bunty: Face it ducks; the chances of us escaping from here are a million to one.
Ginger: Then there's still a chance.

Mrs. Tweedy: Chickens go in; pies come out.
Mr. Tweedy: What sort of pies?
Mrs. Tweedy: [sarcastic] Apple.
Mr. Tweedy: My favourite!
Mrs. Tweedy: CHICKEN pies, you great lummox!

Babs: Morning, Ginger. Back from holiday?
Ginger: I wasn't on holiday, Babs. I was in solitary confinement.
Babs: Oh, it's nice to get a bit of time to yourself, isn't it?

Ginger: Listen. We'll either die free chickens or we die trying.
Babs: Are those the only choices?

Fowler: Increase velocity!
Babs: What does that mean?
Bunty: It means PEDAL YOUR FLIPPING GIBBLETS OUT!!!

Ginger: I thought you were going to teach us how to fly.
Rocky: That's what I'm doing.
Ginger: Isn't there usually some flapping involved?
Rocky: Hey, do I tell you how to lay eggs? Relax, were making progress.
Ginger: Really? I can't help feeling were going around in circles.
[Ginger points to the chickens, who are indeed, spinning around in circles]
Rocky: Whoah, woah, cut it out! You're making me dizzy! There, I think they're ready to fly now.
Ginger: Good, because they certainly can't walk anymore!

[Ginger squawks loudly] Was your father, by any chance, a VULTURE?!

[Rocky and Ginger are in an oven] It's like an oven in here!

Operation Cover-Up! [Is then covered with an old sock]

[About Rocky] I don't like the look of this one. His eyes are too close together.

Pushy Americans, always showing up late for every war. Overpaid, oversexed, and over here!

Keep pedalling! We're not there yet! You can't see paradise if you don't pedal!

[After she fainted from a near-death experience] All me life flashed before me eyes. [disappointed] It was really borin'.