I’m not sure what I really am or even what I’m for.
To eat? Or do they plan to milk us?
I’ve checked myself the best I could ...
a bull calf’s what I think,
But, heck, that might be my umbilicus.
Hey, close that door! I feel a draft,
and git yer hands off me!
Nobody said I had to relocate.
The way yer pawin’ at my foot and pullin’ on my leg
You prob’ly never had a second date.
Oh, chains. That’s nice. I guess this means the honeymoon is over.
And I’d been counting on a baby shower
To celebrate my coming out, where you could lavish me
With medicated gifts so I won’t scour.
But, as it is, yer draggin’ this whole project out too long.
Yer midwife skills are lax and don’t assure me.
Well, don’t stop now! Least let me git where I can turn my head.
I feel like a piece of taxidermy.
Whoa! What’s this pipe with all
the hooks and evil-lookin’ levers.
You dummies plan on buildin’ you a bridge?
Wait, don’t tell me, let me guess ...
a fetal calf extractor
For uterine abuse and pilferage.
Oh. Way to go; now I’m hip-locked.
Yer workin’ up a sweat
and smellin’ like a pair of dirty socks.
I’m swingin’ like a pendulum, my head a-hangin’ down ...
Is that my breakfast there between the hocks?
Git out the way! I’m bailin’ out!
Too bad we met like this
’Cause you might be all right,
at least I think …
And to show there’s no hard feelin’s, belly up here to the bag
And I’ll buy you and all yer friends a drink!” 
