w c

Buford The Bull

Buford The Bull

 

Buford was a Hereford bull

And he had many cows

On cubes and hay he stayed full

As he slowly walked about

 

He had many children

And named every one

There was a son named Brutus

And Penelope (full of fun)

 

No cow knew him better

Than his sweet Colleen

And beside her was little Joseph

That was a prince it seemed

 

Each spring the herd grew

And Buford was again a daddy

With a son or two

That wound up as beef patties

 

It was always Saturday

When the trailer came

They loaded up the lads

And the heifers too that drained

 

One day Buford was gone too

To another pasture

It seems all the girls were kin

And a potential herd disaster