Fake news is Mad Cow’s refrain It has been his daily distain. The problem for Cow Is that as of now Fake news is the heart of his campaign.	Mad Cow will have a go Everything Stormy, way down low His mushroom penis is like his hair Do not touch, do not dare Not to worry, he’s all blow.
	Mad Cow loves the lie Keeping count impossible, but try. Ten thousand plus Is why we are making a fuss This distorted sense of reality you can’t buy.
Mad Cow sits in his stench Seeks diversion, a card trick, a wrench I’m in your coffee, your cup of tea I ask for nothing, not even a fee And I will never sit on the bench.	Mad Cow has god on his side Religion along for the ride His cowering herd Drunk on manna and curd End Times deliciously fried.