Welcome Home



When Iím asked about milking, I can say and itís true,

That over the years, I have milked quite a few.

There were cows that were good, and some that were mean,

Cows that were docile, and some in between.

There were cows that were kickers, and swatted their tail,

Some that jumped fences, others filled up the pail.


Thereís something about milking, that gets in your blood,

Through hot and cold weather, through sunshine and mud.

Itís a sad day indeed, when the years do you under,

A sale cleans you out, and you have time to wonder,

About the rapport, between a man and his cow,

The pastures and barns, that stand empty now.


Thereís no need to hurry, all that is past,

The echoes and memories, will just have to last.

Thereís one consolation, when Iím dead and gone,

And I face the one, who sits on the throne.

He says to me, íWhat took you so long,

The cows are waiting, grab a bucket, Welcome Home!í


© 2002 Loree (Mason) OíNeil

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