So many differing types,
Some are mean, some gripe,
Some make meals, some write tripe,
Of noses and behinds mudders do wipe…
To be a mudder is the best thing,
On her hoof she wears a ring,
Or through her nose, she does then well sing,
Mudders day comes in the mid-spring…
Bovine pleasures are abundant,
Not to sound though too redundant,
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
To you and yours this day of the mudder,
Keep straight your life with a rudder…
© ed ~ 5/14/06
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Birgit and Roger
Take care Ed!!
Love Tinka
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)
I knew it had to be a Matlock poem
very cute
great salute
pax A