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FIELDS OF CLOVER


Daisy stands in a field

And does not damn the day

Sunken calves crawl through the clover

Caked in a clammy clay

Hoof prints pressed in the puddles

Soft steps squeeze the soil

Fictitious freedom in fenced fields

Fresh fromage finds you foiled


Kneel on numb knees gnaw at the nectar

The pasture does provide

Distant kin detained within

The dull barbed wire divide

And a bullock had bruised bollocks

From his best mate's backside

Frustration, fear, confusion

In who can he confide


The clover carpets crushed

And you moo too much

The sheltered slopes are such

Torment the tongue to touch


And a heifer has no horns

But she holds her head up high

Counting tales that cattle will tell

Of a tail just for swatting the flies

Gorge and grow with your triplicate gut

Disguise the gastronomic grass

Follow friends to the dungeon again

Forget the milking farce


Under undulating udders

Brasier of stainless steel

Nothing new will annoy the nipples

But a friendly farmer's feel

A meadow amuses the masses

Whilst the meek emit their muffled moans

My brethren buried in a burger bap

I don't believe in his battered bones


The clover carpets crushed........


In a crossbred coat

Crave a camouflage cloak

Can't hope to help me hide

Steal my skin

For the suede therein

On the hair of a healthy hide

She'll take a tanning today

But she trusts you'll tranquillise her toes

She'll take the trouble to stay

Still whilst you covet her clothes


The clover carpets crushed.......



© MOTH 1990


Daisy is a beautiful, gentle cow. She is confined to a very delicious herb rich pasture. That is the limit of the idyllic portrayal. The dairy industry disrupts social interaction and does things to the bovine divine that we would not normally do to members of our own species. One day us humans will recognise that perversion and realise how weird we are.

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