Miking cows? Ha!!! Child's play!!
Tom From Canbelego by Blue The Shearer (aka Col Wilson)
He was standing in the bar, his eys fixed on some far
and half remembered episode of lifes unending serial
I write a poem of two under the pseudonym of Blue
the Shearer and I though this bloke might have some good material
So I said "How do you do, my mates all call me Blue"
He responded in a kind of country drawl and rather slow
"Out where I come from, my mates all call me Tom,
Tom, that's what they call me, Tom from Canbelego".
I bought us both a beer
, Tom spoke of his career
and he told me how some years ago he needed to retired
So I asked him what he'd done. He answered proudly "Son,
I was a bovine scrotum tester and I sought the perfect sire.
"A bovine scrotum tester!", at first I thought he was a jester,
but I was soon convinced as I listened to his speil.
"I worked for forty years" he said " but not with steers".
He was one of lifes true rarities, an expert in his field.
He was an expert on the scrotum and verbatim I will quote him
"A bovine scrotum tester's got an awful lot to learn.
You have to check for lesions on Anguses and Freisians
and if Herefords have white balls, they're the ones you have to spurn.
And you must be very careful when you're working round down there
for the bull is very sensitive to handling defects.
You can have an awful problem if you're careless and you wobble'm
for the bull will get excited and he'll think of cows and sex.
And it can get rather risky with a bull who's feeling frisky,
a large and rampant bull with reproduction on his mind.
You don't poke him with a stick , you bail out bloody quick
and you never give the bastard half a chance to get behind"
I bought us both a drink, Tom said "I often think
about my scrotum testing days, Blue, I was an ace.
The sires that I selected were extremely well respected,
but that was long ago - another time, another place
Ah, the memories that I've treasured of those bulls balls that I've measured.
The days that were, were written on his weather
He'd gone right back in time even as I penned this rhyme,
You could see it in his eyes and in his slow nostalgic smile.
"In my mind I journey back", he said " to that scrotum tester's shack,
and I think about the many balls I measured years ago.
I can see the stool I sat on, where so often I was shat on,
for a tester's life holds perils that non-testers never know.
He half choked back a sob and said" Gawd, I loved that job,
the heat, the flies, the cattle smell, the challenge and the rest.
He finished off his beer
, said "Well, it's time I wasn't here".
I shook his hand, his last remark was "Big balls are the best"
My interest lingered on long after Tom had gone,
and I wondered why he'd chosen scrotum testing for his show.
Why not artificial insemination or some like occupation,
but I doubt he'd suit the orifice, Tom from Canbelego