Cows at large
The cows of Minchinhampton
Are marching through the town.
Some people like to see them:
It makes some others frown.
The Highlands, shorthorns, Jerseys,
The tan, the black, the spotted
Are relishing the freedom
Before their cream gets clotted.
They like to stop the traffic
While seeking plants to munch;
They see no need to hurry
While relishing their lunch.
And if the plants are growing
Within your garden wall,
They do not mind the very least
Because they’re fairly tall.
They saunter slowly up the lane
To find the apple trees.
Your car is stuck behind them
As they reach the fruit with ease.
And there are other hazards –
You might just step in one
Or trip across a cattle grid
When making your way home.
But cows deserve this freedom,
These velvet, dew-eyed beasts
Who give us cheese for biscuits
And beef for Sunday’s feasts.
By Hilary Kemmett
Minchinhampton (c)
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