I balanced once upon the back
of our purebred Gurnsey Cow,
and twenty seven chickens
the farmyard horse, a sow,
all gathered round to watch me strut,
do a cartwheel, show my stuff.
I spun upon her slippery ribs
and pranced up on her spine
then swung out on her twisted horns
did a back flip, (of a kind)
and landed by her feet with ease,
to stare into her placid eyes.
She didn’t seem to mind, you know,
her eyes showed not a care,
she mooed and with her lumpy tongue
licked my face, my hair,
until I hollered, “That enough,
don’t you know your tongue is rough?”
And so I kicked her in the rump
and locked her in a stall
until she learns some manners—
I can’t stand rude cows at all!
A rollicking rhyme about a child’s playfulness with a cow.