Rhyme of the Purple Cow
(With apologies to Coleridge)
It is an purple cow that nears
And stoppeth by the trees.
With lowered head and buttered eye
Awaiting her release.
Her eyes were brown, her bell was gold;
Her sides as smooth as silk.
Her moo was filled with destiny;
The purple cow from hell was she.
And I would not take her milk.
She moo-ed long �?she moo-ed loud
Her bellows had no ilk.
Her udders flowed,
She gently lowed
And I would not take her milk.
“Nay, I say thee, purple cow!
Your purpose hence desist!
For I would never be like thee,
And will to end resist.�?/EM>
25/11/08
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