Mad Cow ushers in God Whenever he wants a good nod The herd moves its lips To violent field quips Never spare the rod.	Mad Cow ramps up his shrill Words don’t hurt and can’t kill Verbs don’t wave a gun In the absence of fun You stand completely still.
Mad Cow poisons the crowd By moving his mouth out loud He spits triggers and knives How he loves wives Men become bent and bowed.
Mad Cow sees ants on the run He immediately orders a gun Shoot all these buggers Losers and muggers Let’s have a little fun.	Mad Cow’s the last man on earth And he thinks about his net worth All the losers who lost And their staggering cost He plumps and fingers his girth.