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BETSY MEEK AND MILD

There was a cow called Betsy
She was gentle meek and mild.
A pretty coloured Jersey one,
Milked daily by a young child.

Betsy loved to feel the touch
Of the child's warm soft fingers,
Sending her into a dream like state,
Memories on which she lingers.

When the child became school age,
He'd no time to milk her any more,
This upset Betsy meek and mild,
So she kicked in the barn door.

Then the father had to milk her,
Under her udder he put the pail,
Betsy not wanting his rough hands,
So whacked him with her tail.

It knocked the farmer off the stool,
And cracked his head on the gate.
Being furious the farmer said,
'I'll teach you a lesson mate'.

Determined to continue milking,
He tied her tail to a post.
And sitting down on the stool,
She kicked him; where it hurt the most.

The story soon spread around,
About Betsy the cow meek and mild,
The towns folk thought it hilarious,
Which just drove the farmer wild.

He thought he'd have the last laugh,
To the butcher this cow he'd take,
Thinking of such sweet revenge,
When tasting her juicy steak.

But that laugh belonged to Betsy,
She escaped the butcher some how,
And they never ever found her,
That wily meek and mild cow.

Copyright © Vivien Wade April 2014

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