How
well I recall that day,
When I was on the farm,
That
dad and brother Will flew round,
And seemed full of alarm.
“Be
quick,” said daddy unto me;
“Put on your hat an’ scud
Up
to Bill Jones’s and tell him
Our cow has lost her cud.”
Those
days are o’er, but oftentimes
This thought across me scuds:
How
much more clean this world would be
If men would lose their cuds.
May
25, ‘91
Pub.
in
Boston Courier
‘losing the cud’ - the cow that has 'lost her cud' is not ruminating. This is a nonspecific sign of illness.
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