I had a cow but she died.
Many years ago she was born a calf.
She was raised by her devoted mum
And learned the ways of the paddock.
Then she was weaned,
And at the age of 2 she was put to the bull.
She gave birth to a beautiful little calf,
A boy.
She loved her calf like no other.
She fed it, she licked it,
She showed it the way of the paddock
And when it was 8 months old I sold it
And she was sad.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
One year she had a heifer calf.
She raised it and I kept it
And she had a daughter in the herd
to teach how to become a mother, a cow.
Every time I passed her in the paddock
I would tell her how beautiful she was
And she would look at me
And chew her cud,
And show me she was content.
By the age of 13 she was old.
She was lucky to get through winter
Though she gave her all to her calf.
She looked so poor I could have shot her
But spring came and grass came
And she picked up.
I put her on the truck the other day.
She went to the sale
and got bought by the processors
Which means the abattoirs.
Which means that by now she is dead.
I’m sorry, cow.
I feel like such a traitor,
Which I am.