Mad Cow plays with our head
His syntax is muddled and dead
His mouth and his grin
Like a stinking fish tin
Floats like it’s full of lead.
Mad Cow had no Oedipal thing
For Daddy was his money king
Who propped up a loser son
And bled the poor for fun.
Guess where we put the nostril ring.
Mad Cow has a psychic fear
Nothing to do with King Lear
Cow rages at shadows, threats from thin air
Blusters and bumbles with menacing hair
The end of his world is coming near.
Small cows hear the Mad call
Bring down the heavens, having a ball
Put her in jail, demonize the brown
Failing the test for a circus clown
Break out the song sheet, build me a wall.
Mad Cow lives in adverbial bliss
Laying superlatives over his piss
Mine has the longest arc
He says without any snark
The target I never miss.