At the end of their long chains
The cows lie chewing.
Surrounded by pale circles
Of closely cropped grass,
They slowly regurgitate
The morning’s grazing.
Soft eyelids blink drowsily
Over wet round eyes,
Gazing into grassy voids
Or calling up warm
Visions of stone milking sheds
Bedded with clean straw.

The Cows are out!

The cows are out,
They’re in the lane!
Old Mrs Jay
Stands in the rain,
Holding them back,
Away from the track
Which leads to the woods.

Pluff is there, too,
With a shoo, shoo, shoo,
To help Mummy guide
The cows inside.
Quick! Shut the gate,
Before it’s too late!
The last one’s in,
O joy, O glee!
Let’s go back home
For a cup of tea!