The Dairy Air

By: Shirley Lovell

A melody of grateful words
We sing to noble dairy herds.
Producing Nature's Perfect Food
To keep us in a healthy MOOO-d,
Requires working night and day
No holidays and little pay.
When udders burst with nature's best
We humans reap the sweet harvest.
But this we do, forget your pride,
In manner quite undignified,
By caloused hands, or worser luck,
Those dumb machines that really suck.
This moo juice you so gladly make
Is ours to drink for goodness sake.
There's protein, calcium, it's said,
And vitamins from A to Z.
Then from you milk we will create
Delicious treats to fill the plate
There's ice cream, butter, yogurt, cheese,
And chocolates rich, taste buds to tease.
With patience, you are quite resigned
To so your best to please mankind.
It's such a stable job you've got,
We're pulling for you as we ought.
But when your useful days are over
You'll not enjoy those fields of clover.
When 'pasture' prime, I have a hunch,
You'll end up being someone's lunch.
For centuries a debt we owe
Of gracious gratitude, and so
Around the world your praise we sing
To you are warmest feelings bring.
And thus we have, because we care,
Expressed them through the Dairy Air.

Feb 21, 2001