THE SONG OF THE COW.

Southland Times, Issue 17877, 5 September 1918, Page 7

THE SONG OF THE COW.

To the Editor. Sir,—At this time we are told a lot about the high profits of milking for dairy factories and of the prospects for the coming season. For the sake of drudges of the industry, may I present another side of the subject? The accompanying adaptation of Thomas Hood’s immortal "Song of the Shirt” may not be entirely applicable to any one family, but varying parts of it are only too true of many cases of drudgery. My piece was written months ago when it was reported to have been stated before the Conciliation Beard that "the men who make money at dairying are those who work their wives and families without paying them wages.”—l am, etc., RUSTIC. Fairfax, September 4. With muscles weary and sore, "With eyelids heavy apd red,” The milkers dressed in bedraggled clothes Slave in the milking shed. Stream, stream, stream, with aching limbs and brow And still as in a nightmarish dream They sing the Song of the Cow. Work, work, work, when breaks the morning light; Irk, irk, irk, while darkness comes with night; "It's oh! to be a slave AJong with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work!” Squirt, squirt, squirt, till the brain begins to swim; Spurt, spurt, spurt, though the eyes be heavy and dim ; Bail, and leg-rope, and milk; Milk, and leg-rope, and bail; Till over the buckets they almost sleep, As the weary faculties fail. Slush, slush, slush, from weajry day to day; Muck, muck, muck, without a hope of pay; The women are heartless at household work, The children are dull at school; But the dairyman wears a pleasant smirk, For his cans and cheques are full. O men with children dear, O men with daughters and wives, It is not metal “you’re wearing out, But human creatures’ lives.” Milk, milk, milk, with aching limbs and brow, Draining at once, with a double squeeze, Their strength as well as a cow. Work, work, work, e'en on the Sabbath day; But what does the owner care; ’Tis he that receives abundant pay, And they the wear and tear. To those who receive the sordid gain, How silly seems Israel now; But at "the golden calf’ they surely should not laugh Who worship the golden cow. Among the woes of a weary world, Enough to make angels weep, Alas! that milk "should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap.” RUSTIC. September; 1918.