THE COW.
Come, children, listen to me now,
And you shall hear about the cow;
You'll find her useful, live or dead,
Whether she's black, or white, or red.
When milk-maids 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 our true English food;
But though 'twill make us brave and strong,
To eat too much we know is wrong.
Her skin, with lime and bark together,
The tanner tans, and makes it leather;
And without that what should we do
For soles to every boot or shoe?
The shoemaker cuts it with his knife,
And bound the tops are by his wife,
And then he nails it to the last.
And after sews it tight and fast.
The hair that grows upon her back
Is taken, whether white or black,
And mix'd with mortar, short or long,
Which makes it very firm and strong.
The plast'rer spreads it with a tool,
And this you'll find is just the rule,
And when he's spread it tight and fast,
I'm sure it many years will last.
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 good and useful creatures.