The cow with crumpled horn that filled thy pail;
Mourn, damsels, mourn and sigh
Who can no more reply,
"I'm going a milking" to the curious male.
Mourn too, for ye shall feel
The change at every meal,
Ye minions of the hearthrug; be not mute,
Ye Persians, topaz-eyed,
When mistresses provide
This miserable Soya substitute.