Copyright 1995-2005 - Chuck Pritchard

POETS, BARDS & LIARS

The state has finally filed suit

Against a certain feedlot where

Some people wish to dispute

The quality of the air

An investigator then came down

To use his expert nose

And to my surprise he found

The feedlot should be closed

The aroma that raised his brow

The stench that raised his ire

Was from the leavings of a cow

And so he did conspire

To pursue the letter of the law

Which a "nuisance" broadly defined

And toed the mark (a line he'd draw)

As a bureaucrat is inclined

But I guess it depends on the nose

Whether it offends a man or not

And which way the wind blows

And whether you like cattle or not

To the plaintiff the smell is appalling

Backyard cookouts are forever lost

Yet, they fail to see that nature's calling

Has always had it's little costs

To them it's ammonia and stench

But the aroma is rich beyond itself

For the cattleman there is a clinch

In that pile of fecal wealth

For every dime he spends on feeds

For every bite the calf might taste

The calf will only metabolize what he needs

And the rest will turn to waste

The remainder is a deposit

A mushy bank note on the ground

And the cowman can only watch it

As those penny-patties abound

Though each patty represents a loss

They also mean there was gain

And though they smell and drift across

The air and perfume the prairied plain

The cowman sniffs this perfume and he'll smile

Even though it's less than free

And though to some it smells so vile

He says, "It smells like MONEY to me!"