He
was a quiet country lad and each and every day
He
drove the looing bossie home along the grassy way;
Red-cheeked
and tanned, his chestnut hair at odds upon his brow,
How
fair and picturesque was he while driving home the cow.
Today
he is a city man and drives a four-horse team
To
meet the freight for tons of artificial milk and cream;
And
as he winds the city streets, with furrows on his brow,
I
wonder what his thoughts may be while driving home the cow.
May
18, ‘08
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