Mad Cow varies his feed
Sometimes hate, sometimes greed
He chews on all these ends
What happens then depends
On whether mouth or spleen takes the lead.
Mad Cow never played chess
The barnyard is such a mess
His brain follows suit
He’s not even cute
His syntax even less.
Mad Cow loves to go big
Railing under his wig
Back to the Stone Age
On the heels of his own rage
He zags when should really zig.
Mad Cow goes round & around
Confused in Lost & Found
The thought on the shelf
Looks like a garden elf
The beast is going to ground.