The Custard Cow
You’ve seen them by the roadside, swishing flies while munching in slow motion: so much mass for so few twitches, yet so satisfied, you simply have to poke them. Nothing else could lump like that, so fatly dignified. Let’s stop a second — right there, by the fence, And try to make it snuffle. If we tied its tail to something? Or, if we convinced a bee — you know, the angry cartoon bee — to sting that bovine bottom?… No, of course I wouldn’t want to hurt one seriously, but just to stir it up a bit before it sags to earth again, the custard cow? Sorry....
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