Page 170—Moo Moo Land

The Cow and The Ass
Beside a green meadow
A stream us'd to flow,
So clear one might see
The white pebbles below;
To this cooling brook
The warm cattle would stray,
To stand in the shade,
On a hot summer's day.
A cow, quite oppress'd
With the heat of the sun,
Came here to refresh
As she often had done,
And standing quite still,
Leaning over the stream,
Was musing, perhaps;
Or perhaps she might dream.
But soon a brown ass,
Of respectable look
Came trotting up also,
To taste of the brook,
And to nibble a few
Of the daisies and grass.
"How d'ye do?" said the cow:
"How d'ye do?" said the ass.
"Take a seat," cried the cow,
Gently waving her hand.
"By no means, dear madam,"
Said he, "while you stand."
Then stooping to drink,
With a complaisant bow,
"Ma'am, your health." said the ass;
"Thank you, sir," said the cow.
When a few of these compliments
More had been pass'd,
They laid themselves down
On the herbage at last;
And waited politely
(As gentlemen must),
The ass held his tongue,
That the cow might speak first.
Then, with a deep sigh,
She directly began,
"Don't you think, Mr. Ass,
We are injured by man?
'Tis a subject that lies
With a weight on my mind:
We certainly are much
Oppress'd by mankind.
"Now what is the reason
(I see none at all)
That I always must go
When Suke pleases to call?
Whatever I'm doing
('Tis certainly hard),
I'm forc'd to leave off
To be milked in the yard.
"I've no will of my own,
But must do as they please,
And give them my milk
To make butter and cheese;
I've often a great mind
To kick down the pail,
Or give Suke a box
On the ears with my tail."
"But ma'am," said the ass,
"Not presuming to teach—
O dear, I beg pardon—
Pray finish your speech;
I thought you had finish'd,
Indeed," said the swain,
"Go on, and I'll not
Interrupt you again."
"Why, sir, I was only
Just going to observe,
I'm resolved that these tyrants
No longer I'll serve;
But leave them for ever
To do as they please,
And look somewhere else
For their butter and cheese."
Ass waited a moment,
To see if she'd done,
And then, "Not presuming
To teach," he begun.
"With submission, dear madam,
To your better wit,
I own I am not quite
Convinced by it yet.
"That you're of great service
To them is quite true,
But surely they are
Of some service to you.
'Tis their pleasant meadow
In which you regale;
They feed you in winter,
When grass and weeds fail.
"And then a warm cover
They always provide,
Dear madam, to shelter
Your delicate hide,
For my own part, I know
I receive much from man,
And for him, in return,
I do all I can."
The cow, upon this,
Cast her eyes on the grass,
Not pleas'd at thus being
Reproved by an ass,
Yet, thought she, "I'm determined
I'll benefit by't,
For I really believe
That the fellow is right."
Jane Taylor

The Cow
Come, children, listen to me now,
And you will hear about the cow;
You'll find her useful, alive or dead,
Whether she's black, or white, or red.
When milkmaids milk her morn and night
She gives them milk so fresh and white,
And this we, little children, think
Is very nice for us to drink.
The curdled milk they press and squeeze,
And so they make it into cheese;
The cream they skim and shake in churns,
And then it soon to butter turns.
And when she's dead, her flesh is good,
For beef is a very wholesome food,
But though 'twill make us brave and strong,
To eat too much, you know, is wrong.
Her skin, with lime and bark together,
The tanner tans, and makes into leather,
And without that, what should we do
For soles of every boot and shoe?
The shoemaker cuts it with his knife
And bound the tops are by his wife;
And so they nail them to the last,
And then they stitch them tight and fast.
The hair that grows upon her back
Is taken, whether white or black,
And mix'd with plaster, short or long,
Which makes it very firm and strong.
And, last of all, if cut with care,
Her horns make combs to comb our hair;
And so we learn—thanks to our teachers—
That cows are very useful creatures.

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