You might enjoy this! (cattle poem)greenspun.com : LUSENET : Countryside : One Thread
I have been going through our huge stack of old TMEN, removing the few articles that look like they might be of some use someday and burning the rest. I came across this poem in one of the older ones --thought you all might enjoy it, too! (TMEN said "We don't usually run poetry, but we couldn't resist this 14-year-old's . . . ") (I don't know if it will format right -- you may have to read it out loud to get the rythym.)
ode to the CROSS-GRAINED COW
(asking Edgar Allan Poe's pardon) by Beth Simer (where is Beth now, I wonder?)
Once upon an evening balmy, with a book that did enthrall me, Lo! I heard my mother call me, call me from the lower stair. And with soft impatient moaning, then I laid my book down, groaning, And since there was no postponing, ran to see what waited there.
Said my mother (small but sturdy), "See, the clock now says 6:30. Go put on your barn clothes dirty, and your boots so big and strong, For the cows are nicely waiting, and their cuds they're masticating, And their milk's accumulating in the udders, all along."
Thought I, "Mother, so deluded, from this happy task excluded, Your ideas may be disputed by the ones that truly know. True, the task may be quite pleasing, warm milk from the udder squeezing, Listening to the rhythmic wheezing, and the chewing soft and low.
"True, some cows may come politely, with their long tails moving lightly, Coming calmly, daily, nightly, steps so dignified, so sure. But the other has to vent her anger on the one who's pent her . . . If she does decide to enter, cover all things with manure."
From the green and tender pasture, she runs fast and then runs faster, Fleeing from her irate master, jumping fences, dodging trees, Plunging deep in mud and water to escape from those who sought her, And when you have finally caught her, thick with mud up to her knees.
Finally to the barn you lead her, and you truly want to beat her, But to quiet down you need her, so the milk will gently flow. So you pat her and you stroke her,(though you greatly want to choke her) And to peaceful calm provoke her, speaking quiet, speaking slow.
All to failure come your ruses. She to settle down refuses And inflicts upon you bruises with her hard and filthy hoof . . . With her tail so wet and muddy, sharply swats at everybody Till your stinging face is ruddy and you want to hit the roof . . .
Wildly panting, wildly glaring, from her hot eyes madly staring Till it takes an act of daring to draw close and wash her off. With warm water then you flood her, gently cleanse the miry udder, Hose the dirt into the gutter, dry her with a downy cloth.
All at last is calm and quiet. She licks up her grainy diet, So you settle down to try it with the milk pail 'twixt her knees, Milking quicklym leftlym rightly. She is standing quite politely With her long tail moving lightly, quite as calmly as you please.
And the milk comes smoothly, surely. She is standing quite demurely, With her tail so long and curly swatting gently at the flies. Suddenly you feel a shudder . . . hoof moves swiftly past the udder, Tips the pail into the gutter, leaves you blinking in surprise.
Then with rage your heart is seething and your lungs have trouble breathing, But her sides are calmly heaving, calmly swishing is her tail. Try to milk with hands a-flutter, but you squeeze an empty udder, For the milk is in the gutter, so you set aside the pail.
So you step up then to loose her, to departure to induce her, But disdaining thoughts of truce, her foot is planted on your toe. Frantically you pound her, screaming . . . quite unmoved, she rests there, dreaming. Finally, pain enough it deeming, placidly she turns to go.
Trudging home in evening's hour, longing vainly for a shower, Feeling tired, sore and sour from the fracas you've been in, Though you know you should not borrow trouble from the unknown morrow, Yet you know, with certain sorrow, you must do it all again.
-- Kathleen Sanderson (firstname.lastname@example.org), May 07, 2000
OH Kathleen!!!! This made me roar with laughter !!!!Thank you !
-- Lesley Chasko (email@example.com), May 07, 2000.
I don't know about where you live, but around here, old TMEN mags are worth money, like,up to $10 each for the earlier ones, and $3-$5 each for the others. You might want to try your local used book store- seems a shame to waste them.
-- Rebekah (firstname.lastname@example.org), May 07, 2000.
Kathleen: Thanks so much! What a riot, and what a talented girl Beth was/is! I'm going to cut it out and read it every time I get the urge to get a milk cow! Jan
-- Jan B (Janice12@aol.com), May 07, 2000.
Yoicks! Rebekah, most of them have gone in the wood stove by now!! But I was ripping useful articles out of them that will probably be worth more to us than the money we might have gotten from the magazines -- I hope!!
-- Kathleen Sanderson (email@example.com), May 07, 2000.
Thanks Kathleen, I just came in from milking my goat and needed a good laugh. I'm going to pass this on to my dairy farmer friend. - Kathy
-- Kathy (firstname.lastname@example.org), May 07, 2000.
Kathleen, Thanks for the laugh! I need to print this to show people who ask why goats instead of cows? Have a great day! karen
-- Karen Mauk (email@example.com), May 08, 2000.
As a published poet myself, I was very impressed with this young lady's talent. I sure hope she is still writing poetry. She has a wonderful gift.
-- Colleen (firstname.lastname@example.org), May 10, 2000.
What a wonderful piece of work! Wherever Beth is now, I certainly hope she's writing poetry, because she seriously has a gift for it. This contribution had me guffawing! Thank you for sharing this with me....
-- punky (email@example.com), May 10, 2000.
Sure enjoyed this! Thanks!
-- Jean (firstname.lastname@example.org), May 10, 2000.
You said we might enjoy this and I did. I enjoyed this poem. Thanks Eagle
-- eagle (email@example.com), May 13, 2000.