|The Ballad of Molly Malloo: Part 1
|In Stringybark Downs when the clover is lush,
And the swallow is high on the wing,
When the blossom comes out and the bees hum about,
You can smell the arrival of spring.
|And springtime, as any young heifer would know,
Is time for the Stringybark Downs Country Show,
Where they have, for those lucky enough to appear,
The chance to be crowned as ‘The Cow of the Year’.
|Out in the paddocks the air was abuzz;
A sense of excitement was growing,
As word went about that the farmer was out
To pick up the cows who were going.
|“He’s bound to take us,” said a heifer called Jane,
“Our horns are a sight to behold.”
“And surely he’ll see,” said her sister, Lorraine,
“Our hides fairly shimmer like gold.”
Then a voice ‘cross the way said, “I’d love to go too.”
‘Twas the sweet gentle mooing of Molly Malloo. “But dear Molly,” they giggled, “he’ll never pick you.”
|“Your horns are all wonky. Your hair is a mess.
You’re wide in the rump, you would have to confess.
Your tail is all tatty and as for those thighs,
Have you seen your reflection? They’re not the right size.
To think you’d be chosen is simply absurd.
Just face it,” they teased her, “YOU’RE FROM THE WRONG HERD!”
Oh dear. Oh, my word.
|Poor Molly Malloo. What was she to do?
Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it was true.
She thought of The Show and her misery grew.
So, she lay by the creek and she cried, “Moo-hoo-hoo.”
To be continued…