I just love country music. Once again, please don’t hold my Northern California soul against me. Country is like a parasite that lodged itself in my brain. Country and I are like peas and whipped cream. (If you haven’t tried peas and whipped cream together, you should come over to my mother’s house. She makes a mean batch.)
This song is shorter than my last, but it’s packed full of good old country punch:
Cow Fetus Picnic
Oh, bring out the corn, bring out the bread,
Cow fetuses can have fun, even though dead.
Let’s fling some horseshoes, let’s not have a care,
Hold your cow fetus straight up in the air!
Their skin is preserved, their jars are sturdy,
Don’t ya’ll think these bovines are purdy?
And if you don’t, we don’t give a hoot,
This picnic is for cow fetus lovers and we’ll give you the boot!
I hope you like it and I’ll be sure to bring you more country song lyrics in the future, some not even about cow fetuses. “The Cold Coffee Blues” is one of my favorites.
Cartopia 