Most cows will give their calves good care.
They make the best of mothers.
She knows her own calf anywhere
Among a hundred others.
But if a strange calf muzzles in
He finds out mighty quick.
She moves him out from there ag’in,
And does it with a kick.
It aint’ because she hates tha calf
She starts to gittin’ rough.
But if she cuts her milk in half,
He own won’t have enough.
There ain’t a lot he understands
When he’s too young for weanin’,
But any time a hard kick lands
You bet he gits the meanin’.
Cows don’t get out and lead parades,
Nor speak fer missionaries.
She hasn’t got no ladies’ aides,
Nor no auxiliaries.
She has a calf that’s all her own.
She’s tryin’ to get by.
She figgers to be left alone
Or know the reason why.
(Bruce Kiskaddon)
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Based on Topics: Time Poems, Mothers Poems, Reasoning Poems, Cows PoemsBased on Keywords: gits, tha, parades, meanin, aint, gittin, tryin, muzzles, figgers, aides, auxiliaries