Farmyard Antics 71 Poem by Phil Soar

I strolled into a farmyard
Where Dairy cattle wait
To have their udders emptied
Before it gets too late
There's nothing like a herd of cows
Standing around in groups
It's like a crowd of homeless tramps
Waiting for some soup
They have a certain pained expression
While chewing on the cud
They only have the one possession
And it pours out in a flood
And when the churns are full of milk
The waiting then is over
It's back to the fields to eat the grass
And the odd few tons of clover