Cow, why?
Who’d like to be a cow, standing in a field,
Munching grass all day, nothing else to do,
A farmer herd you up, checking the milk you’d yield,
The only word you speak, is a simple flipping moo,
And,
Once a year be attacked, by that big old heavy bull,
Strolling round the field, thinking he’s all that,
Banging away on top of you, until he thinks your full,
Who’d be a shagging cow, all moo and no chat?
Have,
Some young fella come half-drunk, in the middle of the
night,
While your stood there dozing, that bull still on your
mind,
And knock you over, cow tipping you, fall flat with the
fright,
The macho bull is useless, and sure he’s almost blind,
Be,
Herded twice a day, to the parlour, where nothing fits,
The farmer out of tune, with whatever song he plays,
Ramming suction cups, on each and every tit,
Still no sign of that bull, he’s off roaming in a daze,
So,
Why would I even think, I’d hate to be a cow?
And how did a bull come into all this,
Sure he thinks he’s a jockey, a bare back rider somehow,
And I’d only get a ride yearly, that’s taking the piss,
But,
Having said that, I do know the odd cow I must say,
Spouting a load of that, old bull, supposedly while
talking,
I wonder if they would stand in a field, all night and
day,
Someone pulling on their tits, having to piss while
walking,
No,
A cow I should not, like to be,
No one ride’s me, spouting shite like bull,
I’ll be myself, I’ll just be me,
My milk, my words, these tits are full,
Maybe tomorrow I’d like to be a runt,
The world can kiss my ass, and call me, Mary.
