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)