January 15th…“WHILE MILKING COWS ON YOUR FARM, NEAR KIESTER, MINNESOTA, WHAT KIND OF FRUSTRATING THINGS COULD HAPPEN?”
POEM – “The Flail Of Her Tail” by N. Elliott Noorlun
To make a farmer, Moan and wail,
Just let ’em get slapped, With a wet cow’s tail.
Now the cow’s just tryin’, To rid herself of flies,
But it sure got nasty, For our couple a guys.
Till it was her turn, Old “Bossie” would lay to rest,
Upon the clean straw, That made her feel the best.
But her wandering tail, Would fall down in the goo,
Down in the gutter, Where cows would do their “doo”.
Upon our dad’s arrival, That cow would stand right up,
As Dad would wash her udder, And attach each suction cup.
But mean ol’ flies, Would come to land, Upon old Bossie’s back,
And with her tail, She tried to shoo them, With a mighty whack!
No matter how close, You’d bury your head, Along her warm, soft side,
Twas you that got clobbered, Along with the flies, There was no place to hide.
Dear Dad n Bro, To the barn they’d go, Twice a day to feed n milk,
Like neighboring farms, With all their charms, Of men who had the same ilk.
So be thankful when, You tip a glass, Of good ol’ chilled “white silk”,
It took a lot of “whippin’ ” on Dad, To bring us that great milk!!! 😉