Thursday, March 17, 2005

Poem: Killer Cows From Kansas City

I was driving one day and passed by a cow pasture. Don't ask me how my warped mind thought of this poem, but the words startied floating about inside my head as I watched the cows.

Killer Cows From Kansas City

Killer cows from Kansas City
Had had enough
It wasn’t pretty.
Killer cows from Kansas City
Were growing gruff
It was a pity.

Though mellow-natured by custom found
Cows are quiet if grass abounds.

No more than “moo-ing” to fill the day
Lying all about in their cow-like way.

But finally some enough they’d had
The K.C. gang was becoming mad.

“We’ve no respect,” their leader shrilled
“We are milked and branded before we’re killed!”

“What kind of life must a good cow lead
With little offered beyond the time we feed!”

The K.C. cows were in enraged revolt
From their pastures sudden they did soon bolt.

The time has come to make a stand
No more for dinner would they be planned.

Killer cows from Kansas City
Had had enough
It wasn’t pretty.
Killer cows from Kansas City
Were growing gruff
It was a pity.

So the embittered cows took to battle
No longer willing to be people’s cattle.

They rampaged towns with udders flying
Their being free there’d be no denying.

The K.C. cows had stole the show
The butcher’s shelves they would never go.

With tables turned the people cried
A new menu laid can’t be denied.

Killer cows from Kansas City
Had had enough
It wasn’t pretty.
Killer cows from Kansas City
Were growing gruff
It was a pity.

So markets now when people shop
Or in dining places where others stop.

No more to find the once gentle beast
For the K.C. cows are free from feast.

Copyright SGW 2000

2 comments:

Kathleen Mortensen said...

I love cows! My husband and I live close to farm country, here, in Southern Ontario and on nice days, we drive out just to see the cattle standing around looking placid and removed from it all. I have a painting of a cow in a field in my dining room.
You sure had a dark vision with this one, but I can see where it might spring to mind. Amazing how dark thoughts can just creep up on you.
Kat

STP said...

I was driving by a horse farm, ironically, when the idea for this poem hit me. I am so twisted sometimes. Anyway, I wondered what would happen if the cows fought back.