Once upon a time a cow
who had a flaxen-coloured brow
sat in the barn when time had come
to milk all cows, she felt so numb
that they did call the local vet
who told them not to go and fret.

But all of them knew that no udder
could be relieved without a shudder
so, sitting down, right in the shit
one must have access to the tit.

The farmer's wife convinced the cow
that of the essence time was now,
and thus, while feeding on the fudder
the cows were emptying their udder.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/udders/