It was an Angus or a Brangus to Justin Beene,
Or a "Brimmer", a Whiteface or a Roan,
He weighed and measured'em, knew the breed,
But thought them soulless as a weed!
If only old Justin had known.

My Daddy put old Justin to shame:
Each cow was a lady with a name.
He raised a lot of cattle,
Each one by name was known,
He thought there was more to a cow
Than being a Guernsey or roan.
And Daddy was the strangest cattleman
That his hired hand had ever seen,
How he exasperated Beene--
The strangest cattleman he'd known!

"See that roan with a crumpled horn?"
He'd pointed them out since I was born.
"That's Elviney, she's eight years old,
She's got some 'Brimmer' in'er, I'm told,
You can tell by looking at her ears,
Much bigger than that Whiteface steer's--
A bigger body, a better brain--
Ears like wings on a small airplane!"

And how that image tickled my brain:
Elviney, flying like a plane!

"Dad, that Angus has big ears,"
I noticed her standing among her peers,
But he smiled and shook his head.
"Not an Angus, but a Brangus,
You see, that cow was bred
From the Scotch and the Indian breed
To produce a lot of beef we need.
On her calves' fate, I'm quiet as a mouse,
Don't tell her they go to the slaughterhouse!"

I resolved to get a baby-calf sitter
To guard those calves from a fate so bitter!

As over the field my eyes did range,
My toddler-eyes saw something strange:
A "cow" so tough, not very small,
Not built like other cows at all!
And it was decked all in black wool.
"That's Bill, my brand-new Galloway bull!"

( I learned that some 'cows' don't have udders,
They're built like me and my two brothers!)