Out of the van and onto the farm,

A professional person exuding calm.

In a shirt and tie, with trousers pressed,

The neat appearance by my boss stressed.

 

Around the corner comes the herdsman,

Asking for details of a pregnancy scan,

At half past 7 he’ll have to wait,

For office hours to fix a date.

 

The female party, her name I’ve been told,

Is ‘Buttercup’, a Jersey, quite old.

On with the gown, the receipt is done,

Now the fun starts with the stainless steel gun.

 

With an orange glove that’s soon to turn green,

She’s facing away, my actions unseen.

With a gentle nudge here and a little tweak there,

A sensual experience about to be shared.

 

With one final shove her eyes near pop out,

But in 9 months time there is little doubt,

The resultant calf will cause her to strain,

The ecstasy now being replaced by pain.

 

Back into his van the technician jumps,

Back down the drive of potholes and bumps,

In a short time he’ll be on the next farm,

To wow another female with his eighteen inch charm!