They met as they ate in the meadow –
they both shared a fondness for cud.
His moo made her rumen
do backflips; she knew then
that one day she’d bring him to stud.
Her beefcake was meaty and horny;
his pizzle just couldn’t be pinker.
His bullish endeavours
enchanted the heifer:
she fell for him hoof, line and sinker.
And now they’ll be wed in the meadow;
The cows have their vows right down pat.
The promise they’ll make
has plenty at steak
but the pastoral look after that.
The groom has his gold wedding nose-ring,
the bride chews her clover bouquet.
A marvellous feast’s
prepared – or at least,
the farmer’s bought plenty of hay.
So ring out the cow-bells this morning,
for ruminant romance is true.
The cow congregation
are lowing laudation;
the lovers are saying “I moo”.