Coming through the open door,
Saw where she had stood before.
Knowing what it was all about,
Knew I wasn't going to cuss or shout.
Ncver having had to coax or beg,
When she stepped upon my foot,
Or kicked my leg,
Eyeing me with her moist, brown eyes,
A look catching me by surprise.
Edging up to her, touching her side,
Patting her back with a loving pride.
Seeing her now settled and serene,
Seeming sedate like a reigning queen.
Because she had become
Our bread and butter,
Hooked the machine
Up to her udder.
So when next pouring milk from
Carton or bottle,
Remember there's not many words
That rhyme with carton.
