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.