BALLAD of the BACK ROAD FARMER

My good wife, Sarah, as you know,

Just loves her little radio,

She thinks the programs are so nice,

And listens to their good advice.

 

One day she heard them say just how

A radio would help a cow

To feel relaxed and give more cream,

And milking would be like a dream.

 

And so she said she thought that I

Should take a chance, give it a try.

And so I took her radio

Out to the barn to have a go.

 

If it helped Maud to let it down

I’d buy a bigger set in town.

I turned it to some music sweet

And set my pail between my feet,

Then started in to milk old Maud;

She liked it, for her head did nod.

 

The stable cat began to purr,

Sweet music sure appealed to her.

Our collie listened with delight,

The music seemed to be just right.

 

And in his stall, our old bull, Bud,

Just settled down to chew his cud;

The music seemed to soothe my soul

Until it switched to ROCK’N ROLL.

 

All had been quiet just before

Until that loud infernal roar.

Old Maud’s tail rose above her back,

She gave it to me then, KERWHACK!

 

She kicked the pail out through the door

And then broke loose, and out she tore;

And once she got out in the clear

She jumped the fence just like a deer.

 

So there I was, milk pail mashed flat,

Then on my head there jumped the cat,

She clawed my head, she bit my ear,

She hated rock, that much was clear.

 

And our old collie, mad as sin,

Ran round and round, then bit my shin;

And, over in his corner stall,

Old Bud, the bull, began to bawl.

 

He broke the chain, then, full of fight

He hit that set with all his might;

He smashed it into smithereens

Then butted me, right in my jeans.

 

That finished that experiment,

My face is scratched, my clothes are rent;

It might work, but upon my soul,

It never will, with rock and roll.

 

That racket will not ease our work,

It drives the stock to be berserk;

The worst mistake I ever made

Was tuning in the Hit parade. – H.M. Self, Bancroft,