“She sings blues and ballads,
While tossing tossed salads,
And then does an ar’yer or two
From Ah-eeder or Carmen -
‘Er voice is quite charmin’ -
But now I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ve ‘eard that this nation
Will pay compensation
For any mad cows what should die;
Well, this mad cow, I got ‘er
An’ tied ‘er an shot ‘er
And now I should like to apply.”
Clerk: “You shot this amazing cow? That’s no surprise.”
Farmer: “Not to boast, but I got ‘er betwixt of the eyes! ”
Clerk: “You expect us to pay
For this creature you slayed
Without any medical sage?
Her actions, though strange,
Were beyond mad cow range;
She’d have made you a fortune on stage!
“Get out of this office, you idiot, you! ”
Farmer: “Wait! Maybe my wife ’as got mad cow too? ”
Copyright (C) 2004, John Bliven Morin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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