Scold man vying
for a Holstein! I’m told
you’re a sorry kind of guy.
Blue-balls kinky,
in the hay you have rolled
in the building near the sty.
Polled kin tipping
in the valley at dawn,
and then Bossie milks you dry.
Heif’ man lying beside a heavy load. . .
a moo mingled with a sigh.

Don’t let word get around:
you’re bonely. . .cattle-yearning,
kine-some love not spurning
You can’t do this downtown!

Kine man humping
is a frightening sight. . .
got an udder in one hand.
Cud-chomp chow hound—
no, that isn’t right:
Rover rogering you’ve banned.
Mad wife gnashing teeth. . .
“Near widow!” she claims, pained,
as she hears the siren “Mooooooooooo!”
White milk flying
from an udder that’s been drained—
ungulate-angry, her mooooooooooood.

Don’t let word get around:
you’re bonely. . .cattle-yearning.
Kine-some love is churning. . .
hell- as well ’s Heifen-bound.