Cows, after leaving the low lands near the coast, are found to be plentiful everywhere, and to produce milk in small quantities, from which butter is made.
quote by John H. Speke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Whale
The Whale is found in seas and oceans,
Indulging there in fishlike motions,
But Science shows that Whales are mammals,
Like Jersey cows, and goats, and camels.
When undisturbed, the Whale will browse
Like camels, goats, and Jersey cows,
On food that satisfies its tongue,
Thus making milk to feed its young.
Asking no costly hay and oats,
Like camels, Jersey cows, and goats,
The Whale, prolific milk producer,
Should be our cheapest lactic juicer.
Our milk should all come from the sea,
But who, I ask, would want to be—
And here the proposition fails—
The milkmaid to a herd of Whales?
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Sweety Butter Milk
Take butter
Milk...
200 ml
Added sugar
40 mg
Take shake
With butter milk
Shake with shake...
Twenty times
Added ice tube's...
Enjoy too drink...
It is hot summer
Sweety butter milk...
With cool...cool...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Broremann The Farmhand
Broremann, the farmer worker.
Every morning at five thirty sharp, my brother Broremann
had to milk five cows by hand bring bucket full of goodness
to the scullery where maid sifted it and in a churn it went.
He had to start milking Rose first, she was the mother cow
other cows wouldn´t give milk unless he started with her.
After milking Broremann had to clean the barn five cows
make a lot of dung; he pushed it down in a hole in the wall
it was later used to fertilize the land. My brother was proud
of his ability to milk and his hands were, firm yet gentle.
There was a problem though Rose didn´t yield as much milk
as before as she was getting elderly and the farmer sold her
to the knacker’s yard. It was a sad day and the other cows
mooed woefully. The farmer bought a new cow to take Rosa´s
place, but Broremann couldn´t milk her first, as she was new-
comer, so he started with Gerda, now the oldest cow, and milk
the new one last, thus rural peace continued in the cow shed.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Dairy Ode
Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.
The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.
Cheese making you should delay
Until about the first of May.
Then cows do feed on grassy field
And rich milk they abundant yield.
Ontario cannot compete
With the Northwest in raising wheat,
For cheaper there they it can grow
So price in future may be low.
Though this a hardship it may seem,
Rejoice that you have got the cream,
In this land of milk and honey,
Where dairy farmers do make money.
Utensils must be clean and sweet,
So cheese with first class can compete,
And daily polish up milk pans,
Take pains with vats and with milk cans.
And it is important matter
To allow no stagnant water,
But water from pure well or stream
The cow must drink to give pure cream.
Canadian breeds 'tis best to pair
With breeds from the shire of Ayr,
They thrive on our Canadian feed
And are for milking splendid breed.
Though 'gainst spring cheese some do mutter,
Yet spring milk also makes bad butter,
Then there doth arise the query
How to utilize it in the dairy.
The milk it floats in great spring flood
Though it is not so rich and good,
Let us be thankful for this stream
Of milk and also curds and cream.
All dairymen their highest aims
Should be to make the vale of Thames,
Where milk doth so abundant flow,
Dairyland of Ontario.
poem by James McIntyre
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Butter
Pull me from the toaster
Straight into the roaster
Fill my head with the stuff
Brightest dreams are made of
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Promising the big guns
Reward when the light comes
Screaming from the damage done
Screaming from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up like I know you will
Cover it up like I know you will
Better yourself like I know you will
Breaking the trust like you always will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Duh
So you think you got the best
Thought I was like all the rest
Reaping from the damage done
Reaping from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
song performed by by Ultraspank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Part Of The Burden
into the green pasture
we all walk
and look for the milk
from the breasts of the cows
we drink the milk
of the years and the scores
we soon shall know
that our memories are small places
for us to live
some more
we become streams at night
in dreams
far away
we become so absorbed
in our work
throughout the day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Milkcow Blues Boogie
(words & music by k. arnold)
Well, I woke up this morning,
And I looked out the door.
I can tell that old milk cow
By the way she lowed.
Hold it fellows, that dont move me.
Lets get real, real gone for a change.
Well, I woke up this morning
And I looked out the door
I can tell that that old milk cow
I can tell the way she lowed.
Well, if youve seen my milk cow,
Please ride her on home.
I aint had no milk or butter
Since that cows been gone.
Well, I tried to treat you right,
Day by day.
Get out your little prayer book
Get down on your knees and pray.
For youre gonna need,
Youre gonna need your loving daddys help someday.
Well, then youre gonna be sorry
For treating me this way.
Well, believe me, dont that sun look good going down?
Well, believe me, dont that sun look good going down?
Well, dont that old moon look lonesome
When your babys not around.
Well, I tried everything to get along with you.
Im gonna tell you what Im going do.
Im gonna quit my crying, Im gonna leave you alone.
If you dont believe Im leaving, you can count the days im
Gone.
Im gonna leave.
Youre gonna need your loving daddys help someday.
Well, youre gonna be sorry
You treated me this way.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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635 Milk The Elixir Of Life
MILK - One of God's preciuos gifts
For all who seek to live
Of all the food that passes lips
This has the most to give.
And when we from our Mothers feed
Her milk provides our every need.
The milk of cows and goats and sheep
Sustains us in our later life
An elixir before we sleep
It calms our nerves and eases strife
What is the secret of this stuff
Milkaholics just can't get enuff.
We know that milk is mostly water
There's almost eighty eight percent
There's protein - fat and carbohydrate
And calcium to give bones strength.
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day
It sure will help you on your way.
Full-fat milk makes ladies fertile
And it tastes much nicer too
Leave the skimmed milk for the slimmers
While you enjoy your creamy goo.
Jersey Milk has FIVE POINT THREE
Fresian much less - Oh dear me! ! !
Milk is a rich source of vitamins
A and D and E and K
Lactose gives our milk its sweetness
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day.
Drinking milk instead of coffee
Keeps you calm and much less stroppy.
Natural milk is prone to curdle
So we have to Pasteurise
Killing all the dee-dum-durdle
Homogenise and Sterilise.
When next in't Country - it's my vow
To drink my milk straight from the cow! ! !
Milk provides a range of products
Cream - Butter - Cheese and Yoghurt too
Without which life would be much poorer
No Camembert or Danish Blue.
When our palates we would please
We judge a country by its Cheese.
I'll sing the praise of English Cheeses
Cheddar - Cheshire - Wenslydale
Lancahire and Regal Stilton
From pastures lush in Leicester Vale.
Christmastime with Port & Stilton
In Terraced House or at the Hilton.
My 'Ode to Milk' is not complete
Without a mention of 'Best Butter'
'Farmhouse' from the pasture sweet
The taste? 'A Pastoral Ode by Rutter'.
And never let me utter words obscene
Unsaturated Fats and tatseless Margarine.
poem by John Knight
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‘To the Slaughter-house’- A Cattle-song!
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cows all go;
We gave men milk and butter, ghee;
They want our beef now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we oxen go;
We tilled their lands and milled oil-seeds;
They want our hide now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we sheep all go;
We grazed their meadows, eating grass;
They want our mutton now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cattle go;
We served mankind as God said so;
Selfish men want our flesh now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we animals go;
Jostled, huddled, unfed, crowded;
Men want our lives now;
This is our last ride, we all know;
We’ve no other go.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-20-2008
poem by John Celes
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SHORT; Humor: 2 Poems about: A 'Cultured' Sort of Cow
#1
What sort of cow gives cultured WHOLE milk?
I think Princess and cows of her ilk.
She has nary a crawling tick,
she does NOT her calves lick, (babies that is) ,
and, at our state fair she wins ribbons of silk.
#2
What sort of cow gives cultured fat free milk?
I think Princess and other cows of her ilk.
She buys, for her stall, pieces of art,
listens each evening to her Mozart,
and for the annual Dairy Ball……she dresses in SILK!
(Feb.2006)
poem by Bri Edwards
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A Farmer's Song
One, two and three
Its dawn, and cows are mooing,
cocks are crowing,
a dog is barking,
a new day, welcoming.
Four, five and six
The sun is up, plants are healthy
On goes the counting, hens eggs they lay
Manure is turned for decay,
Cows fed with hay.
Six, seven and eight
Milkman returns pails for day
Cake done, ghee and butter,
Egg trays for this, has made a day
Fruits flourish for better
Nine ends with ten
To, West the Sun retires
Clutter clang, tools return to stores
Dogs released from kennels
Radio some news it blares,
A way the cold is driven with fires.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Our revered Cattle
In our country oxen are used to plough,
And man declares, "the animals, we love"!
After harvest man gathers the grains to eat,
And offers the hay to the animal as a treat.
Man collects the cotton from the tree,
And the seeds he presents to the cattle for free.
Before cooking the grains he washes it with water,
And that is the cattle's drinking water.
Their milk meant for the calves are for man,
And he produces milk products as much as he can;
From it he makes yoghurt and sells it in a can,
He stirs the milk and retrieves butter on a pan.
When butter is melt, the aromatic ghee is got,
With ghee, delicious sweets are made and brought;
In villages cow-dung cakes are largely used,
With which glowing fire is instantly infused.
Cow-dung aids in the cleaning the floor off bacteria—
So are the many merits of cattle—is man's idea!
Man, the human is of no use to the cattle,
But they willingly serve us—let us revere the cattle!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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No matter how much milk a cow has, you cannot milk butter from it.
Butter Up
Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.
Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.
And when Monday begins,
We'll have those memories...
To keep!
Butter up!
Butter up!
Butter up, butter up, butter up, butter up!
Butter up...
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a buttering done with fun.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Milkcow Calf Blues
(Robert Johnson)
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Well, well, you have a new calf, hoo hoo, and your milk is turnin' blue
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
[Spoken:] Now, you know that calf done got hungry
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
Well, now, but the milk is turnin' blue, hoo hoo, and I believe he's outta luck
Now I feel like milkin' and my, cow won't come
I feel like churnin' it and my, milk won't turn
I'm cryin' plea-hease, please, don't do me wrong
You can give-a right milk and butter, now, baby, you-hoo, will stay at home
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
She been troublin' some other bull cow, hoo hoo
Lord, in this man's town
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Milk Cow Blues
Well I woke up this mornin
Looked outdoors
I can tell my milk cow
I can tell by the way she lows
If you see my milk cow
Please drive her on home
Cause I aint had no milk and butter
Since that cows been gone
Well you gotta treat me right honey
Day by day
Get out your little prayer book
Get down upon your knees and pray
Cause youre gonna need me
Youre gonna need my help someday
Lord youre gonna be sorry
Ou, you treated me this a way
Aw, now take it away boys
Sail on, sail on, sail on little gal, sail on
Sail on, sail on, sail on little gal, sail on
Youre gonna keep right on sailing
Till you lose your happy home
Well good evening
Dont that sun look good going down
I said well good evening
Dont that sun look good going down
Dont that ol army cot look lonely
When your lover aint no place around
Well I tried everything baby
To get along with you
Now Im gonna tell you
What Im gonna do
Im gonna stop my cryinõ
Gonna leave you alone
And if you dont think Im leavinõ big momma
Just count the days Im gone
You aint gonna see me
You aint gonna see my sweet face no more
Lord you gonna be wondering honey
Where in this world Ive gone
Milk cow blues
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Merciless men
No bulls! All bullocks!
All castrated, libido arrested,
They toil for their men-folks.
All cows! Only to yield calves,
With no bulls to mate them,
Or to beat cows’ heat.
Just to milk for the folks!
Bulls no more masculine
To fall in love with cow;
Cows, though fully feminine,
Excite no male to copulate.
Cows are delivered of their calves,
Having never gone to sex,
By seminal injections.
Bullocks are stripped of peak of sex..
Creations go without lovemaking.
Men and women of all walks,
From sixteen to sixty or more,
Learn to groom their passion,
With hormones and fashion,
To entertain their orgasm,
By nature way or manipulation,
As often as they desired,
In multitudes and with multitudes,
Whether for a child or not,
More often for no procreation.
Devices are found against confinement
And for a high erotic enjoyment.
Lovemaking goes without creation.
Animals are killed of sexual joy
To multiple the race.
Men-folks are filled of erotic joy
To limit the race.
05.02.99, Dindukal
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Peace Everywhere
Peace, everywhere, peace today!
Peace in lands of scruffy trees and pine,
Peace in lands of olives and wine,
Peace in lands where peaks are white,
Peace in lands where fields are bright.
Peace in lands of oasis and sand,
Peace in lands where people band,
Peace in lands where children play,
Peace in lands where people pray,
Peace in lands in the thick of the fight,
Peace in lands ruled by force and might.
Everywhere, everywhere, peace this day!
Pray that all world leaders lead the way,
Encouraging moral people to stand proud and tall,
No government too great, no nation too small.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Butter.
Butter
Butter, like love,
seems common enough
yet has so many imitators.
I held a brick of it, heavy and cool,
and glimpsed what seemed like skin
beneath a corner of its wrap;
the decolletage revealed
a most attractive fat!
And most refined.
Not milk, not cream,
not even creme de la creme.
It was a delicacy which assured me
that bliss follows agitation,
that even pasture daisies
through the alchemy of four stomachs
may grace a king's table.
We have a yellow bowl near the toaster
where summer's butter grows
soft and sentimental.
We love it better for its weeping,
its nostalgia for buckets and churns
and deep stone wells,
for the press of a wooden butter mold
shaped like a swollen heart.
poem by Connie Wanek
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Food In Heaven
Food In Heaven
Food In Heaven
He made the cows to want the rain to fall he made the grass that they use to eat to fill the want inside a cow he makes grass as bread for cows they just continue there to graze in some places in the desert spaces there is grass for cows to eat this is called heaven sweet to cows they drink water when they have it in a drink flavored pouch oh no see eh ewe caught me making lies no listen while eye smile and tell ewe this poem is so nice there is grass for all the cows there is grass on every hill and every cow can eat in heaven they still have grass for every cow there is food in heaven there is food there in a drink flavored pouch.
poem by Charles Hice
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