In meadows green it spends its day,

Then strolls to the barn to pay its way.

The rent is just a pail of milk.

Rewarding the farmer with pure silk.

 

In every farm the cow will graze,

Its calmness never ceases to amaze.

But despite the music of its moo,

Few will give the beast its due.

 

As cows calmly chew their grass,

From field to plate they soon  will pass.

To eat their flesh to some seems mean,

Depriving them of meadows green.

 

From pasture to plate the cows must go,

As into the restaurants hungry customers flow.

Maybe out there for a birthday treat,

To savour and enjoy their tasty meat.