The Saddle-Strapped Cattle

Behold, dear reader, a bit about a boy and his battle, He fought for his family, his friends and all of Earth's cattle, His world was straddled by what rattled atop some saddle, Bound all beneath to bare all the brunt as do stone staddles. A bishop, the boy saw these binds that (most) others could not, And Earth's saddle-strapped cattle knew not for what he fought. Nor did the sad saddle-strapped cattle know they've been made chattel, How pitiful, this cattle, prattling a brattle beneath their straddled saddles. Paddled, the cattle that dillied and daddled, flacid tails tattled tales told to the rattles, Shaken by choking yokes shapen snake coils: the saddles that straps our cattle for straddle. Though choked by the coils of a cobra's yoke, The cattle knew not of this knotted knit cloak. For they felt free as does a flame from its smoke, Woken broke from the womb and broke till they croak. These broke choked bloaks believe they alone provoke, Whether or not they choke or invoke luck by the stroke. They poke fellow folk with spoken tales that do not, Evoke visions as to for why for this joke should be fought.