There is a wonderful patch of Cowslips in the middle of the lawn. These fragile-looking flowers appear every year and I carefully mow around them. The other day my mind wandered and I spent an amusing half hour on my lawn tractor considering their name. It just goes to show that little things please little minds…

You’d have thought Cowslips,
ought to be white,
because when a cow slips,
it’s a terrible sight.
I guess its udders,
would be terribly sore,
with gallons of milk,
on the clean dairy floor.
If the dairy farmer,
had a mind that was hazy,
she wouldn’t be Cowslip,
but simply called Daisy!

In memory of a long-gone Scottish cowman called Sam, who taught me much about life and humoured me in my first-ever job on someone-else’s farm at Kimpton in Hertfordshire. He loved his brown and white Ayreshire cows above all else. I hope he’s resting in peace with a whole herd, somewhere beyond the clouds.

© Baldock Bard 2016
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