Tuesday Poem-The Wild Woman Cow

Have you ever wondered how

it really feels to be a cow?

And have you ever envied she

who seems to live indulgently?


At home on pastures green and lush.

No husbands kids or weekday rush.

In fact this is a load of bull

for Madam Cow is very cool.


Unlike us liberated chicks

she has no choice with whom she clicks.

There is no contraceptive pill

to let this lady breed at will.


She births a calf and gives it up

so we on tea with milk can sup.

So stop a while and have a think

what lies beneath that bovine blink?


She might not have a lot of choice

but boy she’s got a powerful voice.

She lets her female self hang out

her tits a swinging round about.


She shits a pile and flicks her arse

without a care for who might pass.

 She stares at you as cud she chews

and never does herself excuse.


So let us pause and celebrate

the one who made this country great.

The one who really shows us how.

The wild woman dairy cow.

(c) Helen McKinlay




This poem was inspired by the experience of  living next to a dairy farm. We grew very fond of the cows…they would often come to the fence for a friendly exchange of moos and gave us much entertainment and pleasure.

On a serious note, I have often watched cows walking to the milk shed, their udders  hanging low and heavy. Having worked in midwifery and been a breast feeding mum I know how uncomfortable this must be. And one of my least favourite sounds is the bleating of calves removed from their mums and the sound of cows crying for their calves… yet our whole dairy industry in NZ is geared around this practice. Food for thought. The Wild Woman Cow was first published in ‘Sleepy Hollow Stirs’ (Nucleus Publications,Nelson 2006)

Meanwhile, a toast to cows. Long may they  retain their attitude, strength of character and serenity!

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