Minister's Cow

Minister's Cow

A melody so strong,
That’s what makes the song;
There’s nothing wrong
With the musical tone
Of the bass or the bong
That sounds from the drum
Of lil’ fat John.

Ain’t it so?
Says the barman
While giving dough
To the protecting sow
Who’s taking a blow
From the minister’s cow
Sitting at the table;
Cumulating a row
Of men she knows
Only by the length
Of their extra toe.

The glow of the red light
Helps the sow bake a cake
In the shadows of the light so bright
That the blue-coats
Can’t see the hoax
Through the smoke
And old tom’s
Guitar strokes.

“Spasiba” says the man
With the red collar-ban,
Not giving a damn
About the shameful man
Left only with a can
Of molded spam.

He makes his way out
Of the place that protection sought
With a happy thought
Of money, as he ought,
But gets filled with led
Before he did get
Out of the bed
With the cow
He made so wet.